Lost Cause
by MidnightNebula
Summary: He's made a name for himself as one of the country's youngest rising politicians, and she's the daughter of an infamous organised crime boss. They have no business getting entangled in each other's lives, especially under the scrutinizing and watchful eye of the public. But who has to know?
1. Passionate, Womanizing and Guiding

"I want that bottle!"

"No, Courfeyrec. It's time to call this meeting to order."

"We've had seven meeting this week, though!"

"Yes, that's because there are seven days in a week."

"But, Enjy-"

"No." Eponine's upper lip quirked in a smirk, her hands handling the bottle of rum skilfully. She observed the boys crowded around the table, sheets a mess, each individual with their individual characteristic. Each day, when the sun reached the horizon, they would meet, and conclude their day. She knew them, but they did not know her. The only man who acknowledged her presence was Grantaire, and that was only because she served him on a daily basis. There was another, but he was no man, but an angel.

"Courfeyrec, stop dancing."

"You know you want to, Combfy!" An exhausted sigh was heard before her.

"Why must you use that nickname?" It was a pleasure to have them, despite their ignorance of her existence, they lightened her day. Even the passionate leader, Enjolras.

She had seen him in the press, pictures of the fighter, and the light of revolution in his eyes. His speeches were always blazing with brilliance; the crowd would erupt into tears of hope. And yet, he couldn't handle a nickname or a drink.

Courfeyrec was the womanizer, but not sleazy. He would speak of a woman he had discovered every night, but when speaking of these different women, his words would be eloquent. Almost, as though each of them were the most special beauties in his world. Perhaps, they were. But, beauty does not last forever.

Combeferre was gentle, she had witnessed his guidance, he was the one who with his breathless words and gentle one could relax them all, in the element of a lullaby. He would smile towards her when he entered, but spoke no word to her. Why so? Because, she was just a bartender.

The three were the driving force of their party.

But, it was Marius Pontmercy that made the angels sings, and the moon blazes its luminous light. It was unfortunate for her; she did not have the same effect upon him. There was a chiming rhyme at the door, expecting her light of the day, her eyebrows furrowed in disappointment.

In his place, was a girl? Perhaps, of the same age of Eponine, but her eyes were brighter, shining an innocence that was only found in the deep caverns of peoples' hearts. Especially in such an essence of depravity that was present in The Slums. Her floral dress with freshly printed petals were tattered, with grease slicked across her slender arms, she collapsed in the seat before Eponine. Routinely, Eponine handed the mysterious girl a glass of wine. Chastely, the girl pushed the drink away.

"I don't drink, sorry." Her voice was silky, her eyes peering up at Eponine.

"Well, it's useless to come into a bar then." A guffaw was heard behind them, Courfeyrec was observing the exchange between the two women, with his arms crossed behind his head in a lazy manner.

"I was actually you would help me…?" Under the suspicious eye of Eponine, the girl's voice grew quieter, a mixture of guilt and pity buzzed through Eponine. Smilingly assuredly, she placed her apron upon the bar counter, gesturing towards the exit for the woman to lead the way.

"I'll watch the bar, Eponine." Combeferre's voice called. Eponine had been so engrossed in her thoughts of the origins of this strange girl, with her immaculate curls, and her high-style floral dress. That she had not registered that Combeferre knew her name.

* * *

The girl had a Nissan in the middle of a slum parkway. Eponine would frustrate in agitation, but it was evident that the girl was out of her element, with foreign knowledge of the street layout, Eponine decided not to dwell upon her mistakes. Folding the sleeves of her work uniform she lifted the bonnet of the car. The girl watched her from a distance, smirking slightly at the creased lines on Eponine's forehead and she examined the mechanical parts in deep, rooted concentration. Her hands manoeuvred smoothly, and she slammed the hood closed. In the matter of moments, the girl's car was revving lively.

"Did you get training?" The girl enquired, her soft eyes regarding Eponine coolly, but with a shine of gentle affection.

"Uh, yes." Lies. She had memorized the parts of a car in the late days of her childhood. It was quicker to steal the valuable material for her father that way. The girl shifted closer, her hand extended in a gesture of politeness and grace. Eponine complied awkwardly; she was not familiar with such courtesy.

"My name is Cosette, madam. I volunteer at the local youth club." Eponine's awkward smile slowly immersed into a gentle beam, her brother used to adore the youth club. It had bought him companionship for life, and saved him from the depravity she was forced to endure. "

And, I'm Eponine."

You are the only one I know, here. Would it be too forward to come for your assistance when needed?" The question caught Eponine off-guard. Someone appreciated her presence?

"I suppose…?"

"Well, thank you, mom cher ami."

* * *

The bar was silent, with the rowdy ruckus from the outside seeping in. Combeferre helped himself to a glass of wine, whilst Courfeyrec and Enjolras pondered over the speech drafts.

"I wonder where Eponine has gone to." Combeferre enquired, his question was answered by a simple shrug from Courfeyrec, but Enjolras responded with a furrowing of the brows in matted confusion.

"Who's Eponine?" His lips were pursed in thought, as he attempted to recollect an image within his mind to identify with that name. Courfeyrec chucked in disbelief, whilst Combeferre regarded him blankly.

"She serves us every day…?" No light of recognition had twinkled in Enjolras' eyes.

Courfeyrec intercepted with a brisk explanation, "She follows Marius around."

Enjolras' thoughts sparked, as he nodded in confirmation. _Ah yes, Marius' puppy._ He found it unsettling that, out of all characteristics to be identified with, _that_ had been hers. He was ready to make that comment to his fellow friends, when a stumbling Grantaire made his dramatic entrance. Enjolras grasped the bottle of alcohol out of his sweaty, clammy hands. Meanwhile, Combeferre took the reasonability of settling Grantaire down comfortably.

"You're supposed to be with Joly." Enjolras' voice was cold, laced with annoyance, he was expecting a catapult of excuses on Grantaire's behalf, but all he received was a careless shrug of the shoulders. Grantaire lay his head upon the cool surface of the bar table, his eyes glazed over in alcoholic bliss. "Tell me you sorted the press release, or so help me."

"Relaaaax, I'll do it tomorrow." Grantaire's voice slurred as he clumsily grasped at the bottle in front of him. He sent it flying across the room, smashing against the cracked wall. The sound thundered through the ground, but he paid no heed.

"I don't even know why you're here." Enjolras' eyes raged with a deep, heated anger. His lips pursed in a tight position, the air was thick with tension. Courfeyrec and Combeferre stood by, expecting a hurling of insults thrown.

No insult came Grantaire's way. He steadied his posture, his drunken state suddenly sobered.

"I'm here because of you."

Enjolras' easily dismissed his confession with the shake of the head.

"You don't believe in our cause, Grantaire. I mean nothing."

"You'll see, Enjolras. You will." Grantaire's eyes were hard, his hands clenched tightly around the rim of the table. Courfeyrec was about to begin his narrative on this beauty he had encountered the previous night, when a flushed Marius Pontmercy flooded in.

"I'm late, aren't I? So sorry!" He threw a package full of documents upon the table, his hands rested on his hips, his smile beaming in genuine pride.

"What's this?" Combeferre enquired, his philosophical eyes examining the papers.

"Press release papers." Grantaire scoffed and pushed them away beyond his reach, his drunken stupor was his companion once returned. He grabbed a bottle of an unknown alcoholic drink, the odour wanting Enjolras' senses to repulse. Before he had the opportunity to scold Grantaire for his impertinence as per usual, the sound of harmonious laughter soothed the atmosphere.

The boys found themselves in the company of the ladies once more. Eponine and Cosette had not noticed the boys regarding them curiously, Enjolras watched as Eponine gave Grantaire a familiar smile. _So, she's the one supplying him with this poison_. A breathless gasp was heard from behind him, there stood Marius Pontmercy in a mesmerized state. The others followed his line of eyesight to see it fall upon the young lady sat at the bar, laughing along with Eponine.

"She's exquisite…" Marius breathed. Enjolras did not hesitate to roll his crisp, blue eyes. _Oh, sweet Jesus, here we go._ The young lady left the bar soon after, having not noticed Marius in his transfixed motion, Enjolras soon found him pushed to the side as Marius ran to Eponine's side.

Eponine's eyes lit up in fascination as Marius Pontmercy invaded her personal space, grabbing the tips of her waist. _He's touching me, oh my. _Her dreamy fixation soon went crashing as his next words were uttered.

"Dear 'Ponine, who was that beauty?"

It was as though a dagger had struck in her heart.

"Wh-what?" She spluttered out, shock a sensation to her.

"That girl? Who was she? Do you know her? She was beautiful! Oh dear 'Ponine, introduce her to me?" He was so excited, his hands running through his tousled hair, his grin an angelic radiance.

"I…" She was so tempted to refuse, but his eyes were bearing don in her in pleading. How could she refuse him? He was all she lived for. "I suppose I can try monsieur." She gulped, to rid of that lump in her throat. It was a useless attempt. Marius lifted her in an embrace, a million "Thank you" whispered in her ear. She despaired silently. Little he knew, little he cared.

As Eponine pitied for her wellbeing, Marius dreamt of his "beloved", Grantaire drank his sorrows, and the night sky was stark blue. A marble lover of liberty observed Eponine from a distance.

* * *

I wanted to get this done soon to cheer the lovely Enjonien shippers! I know we've been getting hate, but to be honest. It won;t have an effect, so stay positive my beautiful shippers! 3 Special thanks to epjolras for this idea! :)


	2. The Hour

One hour. One hour has been spent with Marius Pontmercy rambling about her "soft, delicate curls, her aura of innocence." And not to forget – "Oh, how she takes my breath away!" Combeferre was certain, Enjolras was becoming inches closer to beating himself unconscious to rid himself of the torturous declarations. Eponine was not any luckier, either. Within the first few seconds of her entering the threshold, he had nearly pounced on her. Bahorel had to stop himself from jumping in the midst of them to protect her from the impromptu attack. An affectionate attack perhaps, but an attack no less! The others had been notified of Marius' state of mind, some taunted, some enquired; Enjolras simply scowled and muttered profanities under his breath. For reasons unknown to himself, his agitation only grew at witnessing Eponine keep her emotions masked, and endure his ramblings. If he had been her, he would not have hesitated to throw a bottle at him to state her point. What Enjolras thought did not matter, he was not Eponine. He had no knowledge as to why she was enduring this pain; Courfeyrac would, at this moment in time, joke about Enjolras' "one-track mind syndrome." One hour and 20 minutes, they had been stuck there. And the meeting had not even been opened with a speech, yet.

"And her eyeeees-"

"MY GOD, MARIUS!" Enjolras' voice erupted. The room stood still, Combeferre observed Enjolras with bated breath. Even, Eponine was stunned by his sudden act of ferocity, and she lived it all her life. Marius, himself sat bewildered as a whirlwind of insults were thrown. "We are falling by ten percent in the opinion polls; we have two days until the press rally, not to mention that this meeting was supposed to begin an hour ago. So, forgive me, Pontmercy, if that last thing on my mind now, is your lonely soul!"

Courfeyrac ruptured in boisterous laughter. Combeferre shook his head, but his eyes were sparkling in amusement. Grantaire grinned with boyish charm, but not before taking a swig of his drink. Bahorel clapped in mock appreciation, whilst Joly just looked confused. He had paid little attention to the conflict, his attention focused upon the slight increase in his bodily temperature. What of Eponine? Any other man, she may have smirked, or rolled her eyes, but seeing the crestfallen look upon Marius made her heartache. She had little time to console Marius, as the object of his affections entered the establishment.

If Cosette was able to detect the tension within the room, she did well to hide it so. Enjolras' tirade has subsided; Marius no longer paid any attention to his ferocious friend, as his focus was only bestowed upon one beauty. He had never seen such exquisite majesty in his life before, a lonely boy in his childhood; he had strayed from any affection of a woman's. He felt his heart constrict at the thought of the only woman to have stolen his breath, at the thought of her ridiculing him, and denying him of the love he longed for. The love that Eponine so longed for.

"Don't even think about it." Enjolras muttered darkly, a shadowy light in his eyes, this light was different from anything Eponine had seen before. This light was not of passionate nature, but volatile. Marius scowled in response, but not before sending a dazzling smile in Eponine's direction. Her breath hitched, her heart halted. Cosette seated herself beside Marius, unaware of the blush she had caused upon him. No matter where she attempted to look, her eyes always landed upon Marius' pleading expression. She felt a nudge in the side of her chest, only to find Grantaire shaking his head softly, his drunken stupor forgotten. Everyone was aware of his need to protect her, except her. Inhaling a breath of defeat, she directed Cosette towards Marius.

"Cosette, this is Marius, my...friend. Marius, this is Cosette," the tears had already started forming in her eyes, but the two lovers were lost in each other's airy embrace to notice. Her next declaration as expressed in a heartbroken, dejected hush.

_Heartbroken. Dejected. That's me._

* * *

They had by now, became familiar with each other's presence. Finishing off each other's sentences. Their voices rising in volume as they discovered another common trait between the two. Their yearning bodies gravitating towards each other in a besotted embrace, that no human could break them from. She had tried; she had tried so hard to be happy for him, but all it resulted in, was a foul taste within her senses at the sight of them both. Had it been anyone else, it would not have hurt so, but Marius Pontmercy was her lifeline. An idiot perhaps, but he was her idiot.

"Here let me." Two hands rested above hers, he took the bottle from her and poured her a glass of red wine. Another sat beside her, and offered to read her a poem he had composed only moments ago. Another told her of an embarrassing outing he had been on with a woman. Eponine's heart swelled with relief, she was not alone. Grantaire, Jehan, Courfeyrac were there with her. They barely knew her, of her past, of her dreams or wishes. But, she was in need of company, and they were there for her.

"Are you alright, Eponine?" Jehan's tender eyes peered at her; she could have lied, and simply endured the dulling pain that had been sitting the bottom of her heart. How could she though? He had been so good to her, reading her poems, and telling her stories, such a gentleman. Such a gentle soul. So she shook her head in pity, she felt herself begin to shake with desolation. The tears had finally spilt. "Oh, no don't cry!" He held her in a strong embrace; she felt her sobs heave against him, her voice hitching in different pitches, the loss finally caving upon her.

"I'm alone now, Jehan. I have no-one to go to." It had happened, Marius Pontmercy was lost. And yet, he was never hers to lose. So, why she did feel as though she had no home? No friend to go to?

_I'm all on my own._

* * *

The migraine had throbbed from the tips of his temple to the back of his neck, the middle of his forehead ached in immense pain, but he ventured on to compete his speech. His friends were fully aware, that he would not move from his current position until the last word was immaculate. Be it dawn, or dusk, he would not stir. In his right frame of mind, he would have said it, but not so harshly. Level-headed Enjolras was not present. So, when she provoked him, he reacted.

It had all occurred when Marius and Cosette had finally left, after their giggling and flirting. Much to Enjolras' relief, he was not far from vomiting after he had the misfortune to see them snuggling. The boys had not returned to the table and resumed the meeting; instead they had surrounded the girl – _Eponine, Enjolras. Jeez._ They had surrounded Eponine and dedicated their time to healing her heart, had he been in better health, and not drained of energy; he would have either joined them in their discussions, or sat and listened to Courfeyrac's humorous tales. Regrettably, he was not in better health. So he snapped.

"Can't you just leave her be? We have important things to do!" The boys stared at him in utter disbelief, except Combeferre. Combeferre looked weary, his dear friend was not well, and when that occurred, only bad events followed. He took Enjolras by the elbow to the corner, and whispered discreetly.

"You're tired, so you're going to get agitated. When you get agitated, you make rash actions, so go home."

"I'm fine! I don't get ill, besides we have important things to do."

"She's upset, let the others cheer her up."

"She'll be fine, it's only Marius-"

"He may be only Marius to you, but, he's more than that to her."

_Oh, give me a break. People with their love-sick problems-_

"Are you boys planning to whisper about me all evening?" Combeferre and Enjolras' backs straightened in tension as Eponine strolled over them. Her tears had casted a shadow on her hollow cheeks, her eyes feverous, never leaving Enjolras'.

"Of course not, Eponine." Combeferre's voice was soft, but his eyes were trained upon Enjolras emitting a subtle message. _Whatever you're going to say, don't for god's sake, Enjolras._ Combeferre may have been his best friend, but even his lifelong companion could not stop Enjolras once he was succumbed to ill-manners.

"Well, then perhaps, your friend can stop looking at me in disgust."

"I'm not looking at you in disgust. I just don't understand why you're fussing so much."

"Don't, Enjolras."

"Oh, you idiot."

"What the hell?!"

All exclamations that erupted the atmosphere.

Eponine's jaw dropped in shock, before she clinched it shut, her eyes shone in an intensity of wrath. Thoughts of Marius, now forgotten. She levelled her shoulders, her stance gave her power, despite her petite figure, and her strength matched Enjolras. A rare incidence.

"Do you even know me?"

"Of course, I do. You're Eponine."

She scoffed bitterly.

"What's my last name, dear _monsieur_?" The last phrase was spit out in acidic mock. Enjolras did not answer; his pride was diminishing, but being the statue he was. This was not evident. "Exactly. So, you don't know me. You don't know my name, my beliefs, nothing. So, you can't possibly understand my problem, here. Before you make judgements, monsieur, think about the other person before yourself. You may speak for the people. But, you most _certainly_ don't speak for me."

She exited then in a mighty stride, the room was soundless, Enjolras, dumbfounded. The expression on each man varied as they regarded Enjolras. Disbelief. Anger. Confusion. Amusement. It is not hard to guess what Courfeyrac's was.

"Well, well, well, is our great orator speechless?"

"Shut up, Courfeyrac." Enjolras snapped. Even though, he was. Not, because she had outsmarted him, or he had no response appropriate to justify his remarks. It was because; her lasting comment had a profound effect upon him. To the point, it began echoing at the back of his mind.

_You may speak for the people. But, you most certainly don't speak for me__._

* * *

**_First and foremost, I apologize for the long update. Seriously, every single computer has broken in this house which is why it took so long. I love the support I have got so far, I was nervous about writing this fanfic because I love Enjolras and Eponine so much, I really want to write them justice. Feedback is appreciated, this chapter is dedicated to all those Les Mis fans that stood up for Enjonine shippers! Love you all! x_**


	3. The Price To Pay

Enjolras did not spend long on contemplating upon Eponine's lasting remarks, he was more focused upon the events that were to occur tomorrow. The headquarters of the Les Amis de l'ABC were in havoc as last minute preparations were being made. Each man was away at their own task, their minds set into overdrive. Despite, his calm composure upon the outside, Enjolras was panicking in the deepest depths of his mind, he still had the competing speech to complete for the press rally against the opposing party. Courfeyrac had assured him that the speech was immaculate, but being the perfectionist he was, he could not rest until the very last word was perfect. Driven insane by caffeine, his office was a mass of documents, with balls of paper that had been thrown around in agitation, Combeferre had already nagged him to bring order to his sanctuary. It always fascinated Combeferre, how such a man who was so articulate with his words, could not bother to file documents. It was by the third hour that Combeferre snatched the fifteenth cup of coffee away from Enjolras, in spite of his best friend's protests.

"What are you doing?!" Enjolras' curls were dishevelled, sweat forming at the base of his neck from the pressure, his tie slung loosely around his neck, he kept fiddling with it to calm his nerves. Which made no use.

"Saving you from a caffeine overdose."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "There's no such thing, Combeferre."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure a man like you has the ability to create it." His eyes shining with wisdom twinkled with amusement at Enjolras' scowling response. "I am actually here to tell you, that General Lemarque is in the meeting room. He wishes to speak to you."

Enjolras straightened his posture, there was a spark in his eye. Lemarque rarely visited their headquarters, it was expected to be an important discussion. He left Combeferre still fiddling with his neck tie in nervous tension. Taking one last glance at the heaping pile of documents on Enjolras desk, Combeferre soon followed. He was worried for his dear friend with the election causing him to lose sleep, he only wished Enjolras would find someone to confide his troubles in. Enjolras was adamant that he was in no trouble, yet Combeferre knew better.

* * *

With first impression, it would be presumed that Lemarque was a man of small dreams, he carried himself discreetly, any stranger would assume him to be a conformist. Oh, how wrong they would be. Enjolras looked to him as a father figure, being dutiful and honourable, like he sought to be. Throughout his career, Lemarque had supported Enjolras, being there when the situation was dire, and when Enjolras was close to losing hope. He was his guardian, in the way Enjolras would, perhaps, one day be Paris' guardian. They shook hands, but they did not bother to begin the conversation with small talk. Enjolras' friends often saw Lemarque's image imitated within Enjolras, there was no time for pleasantries, to both figures, each second passing by was crucial.

"Enjolras, my dear boy! I trust you have preparations ready for tomorrow?" The two had taken seats around the long meeting table, the walls were cream and decorated with different paintings of Paris. Hand-picked by Jehan. "The majority are." The reminder that his main speech was still to be completed haunted him.

"And the speech?" Enjolras need not to explain, unlike others, Lemarque could reach him like an open book. He was no statue to him. "You must have an astounding speech tomorrow, Enjolras. People do not stir until they are captured by words. Who knew, such could have an effect?"

Enjolras chuckled, the wisdom from Lemarque always put him at ease. His faithful teacher.

"I am no imbécile, Lemarque. I shall have the speech ready, I promise."

"I trust you will." Lemarque radiated confidence. His eyes turned pensive. "I do not suppose your parents shall be present?" Enjolras clenched his jaw at the mention of them, for many years there had been no connection between them. He felt sick at the thought of them only celebrating his existence due to success.

"I sincerely hope they do not."

"Is the trouble between you that terrible?"

"It has been three years, so I suppose that answers your question." Lemarque sighed in exasperation, and at the sight, Enjolras' body straightened in a defensive stance. His justifications already forming in his mind.

"Is that your stubbornness or theirs?" As much as he admired his great mentor, Enjolras was proud of his decisions and was not afraid to voice them.

"Did I ever tell you of the time that Feuilly came to my home, Lemarque? Feuilly is not like me, he has never grown in wealth, being an orphan, he has had to raise himself, and through struggle, he has found himself in an honourable position, fighting for a good cause. They were aware of his background, so they ridiculed him. Now, throughout my entire life, my relationship with my parents has been strained, but that was the trigger. Feuilly is a loyal friend, and if I know anything, it is that the people of Paris and my friends that are the most important to me. My parents be damned."

There was a calm silence as Lemarque evaluated Enjolras' justification. A proud smile illuminated his features. "You have good morales, dear Enjolras. I look forward to your speech."

"And I look forward to your reaction." A proud smile was worn by Enjolras mirroring his.

* * *

Lemarque had other business to attend to, they both wished good fortunes and said farewell, before going their separate ways. Enjolras had summoned his friends to his office, Joly exclaimed in horror at the mess. Courfeyrac has mocked Joly's overreaction. Enjolras had rolled his eyes. How they ever finished any tasks was still a mystery to him. They spent the next hour finalising all aspects for the day ahead, and while Enjolras consulted Feuilly on the designated transport. Combeferre and Jehan were conversing in the corner, trying their hardest to not rouse Enjolras' suspicions.

"Where's Marius?" Combeferre enquired. Jehan's eyes were apologetic, sometimes fleeting towards Enjolras to see if he had noticed them discussing.

"He's on a date with Cosette."

"Enjolras is going to go insane-"

"Where the hell is Pontmercy?"

"Told you..." Jehan and Combeferre turned to see an irritated Enjolras standing in the middle of the room, despite being surrounded by his friends, he seemed to be the dominant figure. And dominance drove Enjolras to the brink of rage. All that god-damn coffee. Combeferre cursed. Enjolras pointed a finger in their direction.

"I said, where the hell is Pontmercy?"

"He's on a date...with Cosette." Jehan's voice was gentle, his eyes expressing his apologetic tone. Enjolras threw the pieces of paper on the desk beside him. The stress was beginning to take a toll upon him.

"Mother of freaking God!" He grabbed his red blazer and stormed out of his office, Combeferre followed swiftly. "Where are you going?"

"To the bar, I need to finish my speech." He prayed to himself that a certain young woman would not be there to provoke him.

"Okay, perhaps you can apologize to Eponine whilst, you're there."

"I swear to god, Combeferre..."

"Stop being stubborn and listen for once." Combeferre's voice was weary, his eyes never leaving Enjolras. Enjolras took deep inhalations, before nodding and taking his leave.

* * *

_It is time for us all to decide what our fate shall be. Do we fight for our rights now? Have you asked of yourself what's the price you might pay? This is not some simple game for a rich young boy to play. The colours of the world are changing day by day. A new world is about to dawn. The night will end at last. I say to you my friends... _

Enjolras grunted in frustration, his hands scribbling out the last sentence once more. He had written through three sheets of paper already, all proving to be failures. He was not sure of what had come over him. Suddenly, all the bright ideas in his mind were gone, he had the motivation, but the motivation would not speak to him. So, the speech was not able to speak to the people. A cup of hot tea was placed across from him. Glancing upwards, he saw the retreating figure of Eponine.

"I don't need any more coffee, madame."

"It's tea. Which everyone needs, and I'm not a madame." Requiring some interaction to escape from his overpowering thoughts, he smirked at her witty comment.

"Everyone is a madame to me."

"Well, I'm not you." The clinking of glasses could be heard behind the counter as she continued with her work. "Thank god..." She muttered to herself.

Enjolras scoffed at her light humour. It had been the first time he had laughed that day. A pang of guilt was felt at the bottom of his stomach, when he recalled his behaviour the previous night.

"I should apologize for upsetting you-"

"You didn't upset me." Her brows furrowed in confusion. Partly due to his assumption, and partly to his apology. Eponine was not accustomed to others considering her feelings. Sensing his confusion at the statement, she continued. The clinking of the glasses echoed her words as a backdrop. "It takes a lot of upset me, Monsieur." "Even so..."

"Let's just forget it. Enjoy your tea, Monsieur. I know a stressed person when I see one. What's troubling you?" She glanced over his shoulder, Enjolras became slightly uncomfortable at how confident she was in leaning so close in his touch. Eponine's left brow rose at the sight of the scribbles on his page. It was though all his muddled thoughts had transmitted onto the page. She read the last line, her intellect came to her aid.

"Make the last word "fraternité". Groups of three are effective." And with that, she left to do inventory, leaving Enjolras to his state of surprise. Why he was so surprised at her air of intelligence, he was not sure. Nevertheless, he glanced down at the page and took heed of her advice. A satisfied grin shone upon his features.

_It is time for us all to decide what our fate shall be. Do we fight for our rights now? Have you asked of yourself what's the price you might pay? This is not some simple game for a rich young boy to play. The colours of the world are changing day by day. A new world is about to dawn. The night will end at last. I say to you my friend... _

_Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité._


	4. The Great Day

The day had finally came. After using his utmost strength to push his joyful friend, Joly out of his apartment after a lecture of the dangers of lack of sleep, after hoisting Courfeyrac out of bed with his lover, and after getting Bahorel to stop bickering with his neighbour on the volume of his TV. He had peace in his office to collect himself before the grand press rally. Combeferre had already set for the bar, to finalise the plans with Bousset, and Enjolras was due to meet them there. Striding through the halls of the great headquarters of the Les Amis, his stance radiated fortitude and strength, motivating his employees to work and give all their effort to helping their leader. They loved him dearly, and he respected their presence every day. To his delight, Feuilly had met him halfway in the corridor. The excitement was buzzing through the walls of the building, but Enjolras did not let his feelings surface, he had to stay collected and calm. Feuilly joined him on his walk through the building, assisting him in signing paperwork as they went on their way to the car.

"The transport?"

"Already sorted. Courfeyrac, Joly and Bousset will be in one car. Marius, Bahorel, Jehan and Grantaire-"

"Grantaire? No, he isn't going." Feuilly regarded him in surprise, it seemed logical to have all their members present, to show the unity of the party, and the great friendship that was the core of the group. It was what the people admired most about them, it was what Feuilly cherished.

"You must have him there, Enjolras. What else will he do?"

"What makes you think he'll do anything, anyway? He'll be drunk at this precise moment." Enjolras scoffed with a bitter tone.

"Enjolras, he's not always drunk. What happened in the past, you have to let go." Whilst, his voice was steady, his eyes pleaded. He needed this grudge that Enjolras had set in his heart to evaporate. It was not good for Enjolras' state of mind, nor did it do Grantaire any good.

"I'm not talking about the past, I'm thinking of what is best. And Grantaire being far away from the press rally is the best." Not awaiting a response, Enjolras fixed his suit and made his way down towards the car. Feuilly sighed in weariness. He would yield, Feuilly was certain. Soon.

* * *

Combeferre, the man with wisdom and patience, was losing it all. He stood there, with Jehan, pleading Marius to change his mind. Marius was due to go to lunch with Cosette, his bright starry-eyed lover. There was an elemental panic in the bar, which Eponine chose to not intervene in.

"What do you mean, you don't want to come?!" Combeferre voice was raised in disbelief, as Jehan observed Marius in disappointment. His usual smile not there, his lips pursed in contemplation. As Marius attempted to reason with the men, it was only worsened when Courfeyrac chose to intercede.

"What's this bickering about, my lovelies?"

"Marius isn't coming to the press rally." Courfeyrac's beaming smile froze in place and his eyes struck Marius. His fist curled around the paper in his hand, as he ventured the understanding of the statement.

"Why? Oh, god, Enjolras is going to kill you."

Marius held his hands in surrender, gesturing his friends to quieten. He quickened the pace of his voice as he made his justification to prevent them from interrupting.

"Look, I don't want this anymore, okay? I never realised until now, that I was so alone. Then, I met Cosette, and she is like a burst of light in my life. She has burst like an angel, my friend. Like the soleil! I don't want this life anymore." His grin was contagious, as Courfeyrac mirrored it. Patting his dear friend on the back, Marius was convinced they had understood him and would let him be.

"I know you love her, Marius. But, you can't leave us. You are a great speaker! We need you!" Courfeyrac grabbed the collar of Marius in a "masculine" affectionate nature. "The people need you." Marius sighed, he had been so close to persuading them. As ever with impeccable timing, the light of his life entered, smiling merrily at the boys, she began to make her way to Marius so she could take his hand in devoted unity.

"Pardon, Monsieur Marius! I would like to speak to my ami, Cosette for a moment." Eponine, without prediction, pulled on the hand of Cosette, leading her to the back room so their conversation could not be overheard. The boys looked at each other in surprise and confusion at Eponine's sudden change of behaviour, one moment she had been quietly sorting the wine glasses, the next she was leaping across the room to her "ami". At least, that was what Combeferre and Jehan was perplexed about. Marius, being the booby he was, was puzzled for an entirely different reason.

"When did 'Ponine get here?"

"Oh sweet J- you are ridiculous, Marius."

* * *

Cosette's melodious laughter rang out as she was pulled into the back room with Eponine, she showed no indication of sensing the frustration radiating from Eponine's rigid structure, or the way she clenched her jaw as she awaited Cosette to stop laughing. She calmed herself down, but still giggled in between speeches.

"Did you see their faces? Oh, my dear Eponine, you do surprise people!" Eponine spent no time with small talk, she had affronted Cosette for a confrontation, nothing more. Rather in an Enjolras nature.

"Do you know what Marius' job is?" Her arms was crossed in a hostile position, her lips in a tight line, her eyes set hard. Cosette furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"Well, of course I do! He is a politicien."

"Do you know of what party?" Cosette simply shook her head, innocent her greatest trait, despite Eponine's hostility, she was still courteous, not willing to retaliate. She was considerate and understanding, even though she had only spoken to Eponine on a number of occasions. "He is a politicien of the Les Amis de l'ABC. Yes, the controversial one, with a lot of pressure on them. They have a press rally in exactly one hour, and Marius doesn't want to go. You are his soleil, his ange, blah, blah, blah. But, you listen to me, Marius has worked very hard for this, and he shouldn't throw it away just because he wishes to spend his life with you. Just as much as the others can't afford to lose him, just because he wishes to spend his life with you." As her words were further expressed, her voice cracked. Cosette may have interpreted it as anger, but it was the cracking of her heart as the message finally set in. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Cosette, not Eponine. It was never Eponine.

"What do you want me to do?" Cosette clasped her hands on top Eponine's as a sign of affection and empathy. Eponine's fierce shell diminished immediately.

"He values your judgement...convince him to go the press rally." Cosette released a dazzling beam, nodded and strutted out in elegance. Eponine's bitterness did not return, instead a small smile was illuminated upon her. Cosette, there was more to her than met the eye.

* * *

To their utmost relief, the situation had been resolved the hour that Enjolras and Feuilly had arrived. Marius was now at the main table surrounded by Combferre and Courfeyrac as they readied the speeches for Enjolras. Bahorel and Bousset had already left to get the stage and the cameras ready. Cosette was sat the bar watching her boyfriend in loving pride. Grantaire was sat beside Cosette, but bared no attention to her, he stared into the rims of his beer glass, his mind in another place. He was aware of the fate that awaited him. No fate, no drive. So was Eponine. Sensing her opportunity, she grabbed Combeferre by the elbow and led him aside for a private conversation.

"Take Grantaire with you." Combeferre was not surprised at her recommendation, a rebellious nature had taken over her. She had become more wild than usual, he wasn't sure whether it was the adrenaline in the bar from the anticipation of the press rally, or that she had a new profound passion for commanding people. Either way, he approved.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"Wha-?! Why not?" Her arms were crossed in defiance, as she refused to stand down from her initial recommendation.

"It's complicated."

"I'll speak to Enjolras, then."

"No! Don't!" It was too late to stop her in her step, she had already strode towards Enjolras, planting herself right beside him at the table. He jumped at the sudden shift in the weight of the seating, he jumped back further when seeing the fiery light in Eponine's eyes.

"Take Grantaire with you."

"Wha-?! No!" There was something different about her, she was more upfront, her body was leaning forward, and her fist rested underneath her chin as her gaze penetrated him.

"Yes, yes, yes. It's complicated, I don't care. Look at him." She was already being forward, so she had no hesitant in taking his chin in her hand, and tilting his head to the left, to show him a solemn Grantaire at the bar counter, filling another drink.

"Typical." Enjolras muttered.

"Why can't you take him?" Her hand still rested the base of his chin.

"I don't need to explain myself to you, Eponine."

"What? Because I'm a roturier?"

"No, of course not! It's personal." He stood to leave for the car, but being no longer awkward around him, she grabbed the cusp of his sleeve and pulled him back down to sit beside her. He nearly crashed into her at the speed of her heave.

"Look, whatever had happened between to you two, has to be finished. You have a party to run, and you need all your members present. Grantaire could be a fantastic asset to you." It was strange, her words had been remarkably similar to Feuilly.

"Have you been speaking to Feuilly? Did he put you up to this?"

"No. I care about Grantaire, and your progress." A soft silence stretched out between them, before Eponine realised the possible implications of what she had proclaimed. "I mean, your party's progress."

"Eponine, you may have helped me with my speech, but that does not mean that you can dictate my personal decisions. I understand you care about Grantaire, but there are some things that cannot be fixed." The silence descended on them once more. Enjolras slowly moved back after realising how close their heads had been coming together, with an abrupt cough and fixing of the tie, he left Eponine at the table. Eponine bit her bottom lip as she contemplated on what had just passed between them.

_It seems he is still a statue, after all._

* * *

The crowd was electric, with the masses of people cheering the Les Amis as they entered centre stage. It was exhilarating. The opposing party, Rois de Paris to their left, Enjolras straightened his posture and sent a menacing glare in their direction. He placed the pile of papers on his podium, his mind sent into overdrive. Ready for the fight. The press was already present, shouting cheers of encouragement, as well as cheers of pessimism. Jehan patted Enjolras' back in friendly kindness, before taking his seat beside Combeferre. Enjolras felt a sweat began to form at the base of his neck, his tie becoming constricting. It was only the tender smile from Combeferre that eased his anxiety. The event was to go as planned; both parties would make their opening speeches, and then the debate would begin. Soon following, the press would have their freedom to ask questions. In other words, interrogate them. Rois de Paris was first.

Their leader was Beauvais, he was a conservative man. A conformist at heart. With his ideals set in motion from an early age, he sought to maintain the French society deeply enriched in traditional attitudes. He was a dishonest family man, with many affairs on his back, but the press did not intervene. If that had been Enjolras, they would have ripped him apart. He mocked the ages of the Les Amis, claiming they were "bored", and had no real experience of the true world. He was in the disadvantage, however. He had not known Feuilly's struggle. Or Marius' bravery. Or Bahorel's fire. No, he did not know any of it. He lacked one vital trait. He lacked the anger. The blood of angry men that Les Amis encompassed. His monotonous tone rang out across the yard of the masses.

"Citizens! I look back over our time, and I see power. In the years that Rois de Paris have ruled, Île-de-France has seen an an outstandingamount of strength. We have richesse, we have justice, and we have l'unité. So listen to these schoolboys if you must, after all. Every schoolboy to his sport."

There was a muteness asthe people chose in that moment to whether heed his words.

There was a blast of cheering uproar.

Enjolras looked to his fellow friends, his lip tightened in doubt. To his relief, his friends had not frozen the smile upon their faces. They trusted his leader, they knew of the greatness he was capable of. That they were all capable of. Before taking his place at the podium, he outstretched his hands towards Marius. Marius looked up at him in astonishment.

"My speeches are not good without you."

Marius gripped his hand in solidarity. The others grinned at each other in excitement. Rois de Paris was not ready for theimpact. And it was to be quite the show. The head figure running the event looked frazzled as the two men took their place beside each other.

"Oh, two speakers? That is most unusual..."

"Well, as you are aware, head speaker. We are not the most conventional party." Marius' humour was contagious, just as much as his smile. The head figure smirked in response and stood aside to let the men have their chance to light the fire. Turning his back to Beauvais as a signal that he was not willing to consider Beauvais' protests. Enjolras looked down at the calligraphy in his hands, realising that these words meant nothing. The rhetoric, the specialist register. It meant nothing. He needed to be honest. He would not play by Beauvais' rules.

In a cold, distance voice. He started.

"Where are the leaders of the land?" Marius watched him from beside him, he could sense the fire raging from his stomach, lighting its way through his nerves, sparking his mind. He watched as Enjolras' voice became booming. "Where is the king who runs this show?" He pointed accusingly towards Beauvais.

"There he is! He talks of wealth, strength and unity. But where is this wealth? You can analyse our stock markets and make a ten-page report on how Île-de-France is the wealthiest region. It cannot be ignored that the class divide is DISGUSTING! I speak to the industrialists, the businessmen, and the women in their summer dresses fanning their faces from the heat. There is a heat. A heat in the country. How can they walk past the beggars? And scoff or grimace? When they have the power to fix this? It takes schoolboys. SCHOOLBOYS. To stand against this. Where was the great France, we once knew?" He paused to let Marius have his moment.

"There is only one man, General Lemarque that speaks for the people below."

"One man. That is appalling. It is time for us all to decide what our fate shall be. Do we fight for our rights now? Have you asked of yourself what's the price you might pay? This is not some simple game for a rich young boy to play. The colors of the world are changing day by day. A new world is about to dawn. The night will end at last. I say to you my friend... Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité."

The muteness was back once more. Then came the shout from the masses.

"Vive le France! Vive le France! VIVE LE FRANCE!"

The cheers were incredible, Enjolras felt his heart cry with happiness at the sight of the people cheering for their efforts, the boys huddled in a group hug, shouting encouraging remarks at one another. Joly bounced between them all, hugging his dearest friends. Happiness being at the core of his soul.

* * *

The enthusiasm had calmed by the time it was for the questioning to begin. With the journalists at the ready with their voice recorders, Enjolras nodded to his friends as they also readied themselves. "Time for the grilling." Courfeyrac muttered, the booming laughter of Bousset was heard that brought them into good spirits. The journalists rolled their eyes, Bousset was well-known for embarrassing stories in the newspapers. He was unlucky, and superstitious, and already greying at a young age, but he was greatly adored by his friends.

"Monsieur Enjolras. You may give us speeches, and provoke the people. But, how can we be certain that what you say is true?" A young woman in the crowd spoke up, her eyes hardened, her lips curved in a threatening smirk. Enjolras recognized her. She was a leading journalist of the best-selling newspaper, Nouvelles Pour La France, She had brought down many politicians in her time, with her wits and intelligence at her command. All must be aware, she always got her story.

"It is true because I have experienced the hardship of the people. As have my friends, I reside with the people. And, I will show you that my actions will not betray my words."

"Talk, talk, talk. That is all you do. We'll see how that works for you." The tension between the both was heavy, the head speaker had to let the press cool, whilst getting the opposing party ready for their questioning. Enjolras scrutinized her from his position at the podium. He would have to tread carefully around her.

* * *

Eponine and Grantaire were involved in a riveting game of beer pong by the time that the Les Amis had returned. They looked exhausted, adrenalized, and mellow all at once. How, Eponine could not understand. Enjolras had sat at the table on his lonesome, glancing pensively at the palms of his hands. She watched as Grantaire moved towards him.

"Any more staring at your hand and you'll set it on fire, dear Enjolras." He took a wig of his drink as he sat down beside him. The mood in Enjolras had changed, he did not order Grantaire to move away from him, or lecture him on his alcoholism. He simply glanced up and glanced down at his hands. "Don't suppose I can tempt you a with a drink, and get you tell me what's ailing you?" Enjolras smiled slightly and shook his head. Eponine stayed where she was, happy to see this exchange unfold.

"They're not moving."

"Who?"

"The people. After the press rally, they cast their votes on who was the most influential at the rally, we have moved up in the polls, but are still considerably lower." He grunted and rubbed his eyes in fatigue. "I have no idea to show them that Rois de Paris is the poison in our country." A spark lighted in Grantaire's mind. He turned to Eponine, needing primary information.

"What do you think, Eponine?" Eponine jumped back at the ferocity in his eyes. Grantaire was rarely every so enthusiastic, it was appealing to see, yet, terrifying.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! You've lived on the streets, you know how life is. Are you moved by what we say?" She looked past Grantaire at Enjolras. He had remained silent, his eyes never leaving hers. She could have lied, she could have sugar-coated her words and told them what they wanted to hear. Nevertheless, she saw how desperate Enjolras had become She couldn't misled him with dishonestly.

"Frankly, no."

The chatter in the rest of the bar silenced, Enjolras stood up to level her height.

"What?"

Well, she had caused the damage, she might as well go down in style. "You're all a bunch of rich boys! You can say that you understand the hardship we have been through, but honestly? You don't. You have no idea what it is like to live in the corner of the street and feel the rats on the tips of your fingers. To lose all connection with your family because you think you can lead an honest life, and then to have it thrown back at you. To live through your teenage years being a crook and cheating good men, who only want to take care of you. No, none of you understand! If you can't understand that, then how do you expect for the people to think you do?"

"But, we do." Enjolras moved towards her, his eyes soft and his lips frowned at her criticisms.

"Yes, okay, you understand. But, you have no felt what we have felt. What I have felt, until you do. You have no chance of winning this."

"Well, then. Help us." Jehan proposed, he had been watching her in her element, and saw someone else. The Eponine they had seen before, was no longer there. And he, as many other of the group, welcomed this new Eponine.

"How?"

"Help us show people we feel what you feel." Enjolras stood by her now, his eyes downcast, capturing hers.

"I...okay." She found herself mesmerized in his blue eyes for some reason she could not find. There was a cheer at the sound of her agreement. Enjolras moved away, slightly smiling at her approval. It was only Combeferre who did not cheer or smile. Instead, he watched the two beside each other, having an instinctive feeling that there was more to happen between them.

_ This is to be quite the show._

* * *

**_I don't meant to be read when I ask, if I can have reviews? I feel as though, I'm writing blind so I would really like to know if you like the way this story is going. Thank you! xx_**


	5. Are You Ready?

_**Big, big thank you to all the reviews, I'm just going to do a few responses until we begin :)**_

_**annevalerie: Thank you very much for your constructive criticism! Yes, you are right, the speeches were deliberately wrote like that, and don't worry Eponine's role becomes much more defined and important.**_

**_pyatpree: I'm glad you like the speed! And I'm happy you like Combeferre's part in this :D_**

**_GirlWithTheNotebook: Thank you! Well, one thing I despise is when Eponine is depicted as a damsel in distress so I wanted that to be not in my fanfic, so I'm happy you approve. Eponine's past will definitely be explored and have daunting effects on her storyline and Enjolras' as well :) And, her position becomes much more important and vital to the story :)_**

**_Okay, done now, enjoy! x_**

* * *

_The street was dirty with rats scuttling over her feet as she awaited her father's arrival. She heard a muffled yelling, and a whacking noise. Turning in the corner was her father dragged an old man by his hair, the man was yelling under the grubby hand of Monsieur Thenardier. His pleas for help were soon rewarded with a swift kick to the stomach. _

"_Dad, what are you doing?" She ran to assist the old man to his feet. She gasped as his face came into the light of the street-lamp. It was Monsieur Guilmette, she knew him from the orphanage her brother would visit. He was a kind man, always assisting her and giving her food when he saw her hungry for the night. To see him so battered and damaged, made her want to vomit. _

"_Search him, he's got money on him!" Her father pushed her out of the way, and began ransacking through Monsieur Guilmette's pockets, kicking him now and again to stop him from resisting. What, Eponine did next was beyond dangerous. Her father was a criminal mastermind; ruthless and cruel, to fight against him was committing suicide. She could have turned a blind eye to the treatment of Monsieur Guilmette, but seeing his pleading eyes over her father's shoulder as he was attacked further was enough to advance. _

"_Father, stop!" She grabbed the shoulders of Thenardier, pulling him away from Guilmette, whilst screaming for Guilmette to take his opportunity to run. She felt her body contact with the brick wall behind her as he father screamed profanities in her face. She felt the full force of his poisoned spit. His corrupting rage. _

"_I'm gonna make you scream, alright!" She braced in horror for the blow of his smack.  
_

Eponine woke with a start, relieved to find that she was in her cramped bed in her squalid flat. She grimaced as the odour from her next door neighbour's wafted through the room. The idiot was at the drugs again. She felt the tiresome in her muscles as she stretched, readying herself for another mundane days of tasks. Her mind recollected memories of the night that her nightmare had reminisced upon. She still had the bruises from her actions, but to know that Monsieur Guilmette was safe was worth it. Conducting her daily ritual of washing and dressing, she prepared herself for the day ahead. There was no cold water in their building, or heating for that matter. It wasn't a home, it just a flat to her. However, she gotten used to no homes, in her depressing lifestyle. She was thankful, nevertheless, that she was abused no longer. Gavroche and Eponine had both escaped from that horrific lifestyle of crime and fraudulent. It was no heaven for her, but it was enough. She longed for the day she could have a hot plate of scrumptious breakfast again. She knew that day would not come. How had she, an eighteen year old, had come to have the faith of a dying human?

* * *

The building was quiet when Combeferre entered to complete his tasks, only with Courfeyrac for company. That was enough to wake his spirits up anyway. It was surprising to see no Enjolras at his desk, head down and writing away furiously. Or Bahorel at the phone, arguing with infuriating journalists. To whom, he always had to apologize to for Bahorel's impulsive remarks. Bahorel was never sorry. Courfeyrac had found him looking through different reports of the press rally that had occurred the day before. There were mixed reception, but all reports commented on how empty Enjolras' speeches seemed, he may have been a good orator, but there was the general feeling that the Les Amis de l'ABC stood for nothing. Nothing concrete. This was the why Combeferre was certain that Eponine's help would be valuable.

"Where's our marble statue?" Courfeyrec slumped down on the sofa beside Combeferre, flicking through reports also to busy himself.

"At an interview."

"Oh?"

"Yes, after the press rally, he thought it best to go do a few interviews. To give the journalists a more precise idea of what our policies stand for."

"Was this after the blond woman – what's her name?"

"Cateline Hamel. No, not just because of her, although Enjolras is weary of her. It was after we rose only a little amount in the opinion polls, we're still under 5%, and time is running out."

"Oh, okay. Do you think having Eponine help will be useful?"

"I do, but not just by giving us tips now and again. I think there's more to her than we know for now." Combeferre was tempted heavily to tell Courfeyrac of his observations of the night before. From the way Eponine had lost track of her thoughts under Enjolras' heated gaze, and the way during the night, his eyes always drifted to her. He had seen the way he had been in an intense debate with Marius over politics, and when she had entered the room, he had involuntarily ceased talking for a moment to watch her curiously. Combeferre suspected that he may have been analysing the pair more than necessary, but he also knew his best friend. And his best friend rarely gave this amount of attention to one woman. Also, if he told Courfeyrac...Courfeyrac would get so excited, he would make banners to decorate Enjolras' office with. The clock struck nine, Combeferre reached for the remote and turned on the small television in his office. Enjolras often criticized him for having a television in his office, Combeferre simply reminded him that not everything on television was stereotypical mindless junk he believed there to be. Arriving at the right programme, Courfeyrac cheered at the sight of Enjolras sitting in the guest chair, looking alert and sharp for the questioning. It was a mystery of the world how that man could go without two days of rest, and still be ready to run a marathon.

"Bonjour, France! Welcome to today's show. We have the delight of having the politician, Monsieur Enjolras. Known for the being one of the youngest politicians to run for election with his party, Les Amis de l'ABC. Today we shall be speaking to him about their politiques, which I am sure that are interesting to hear. Let us first, discuss the press rally event yesterday. How do you feel that was, Monsieur Enjolras?" Combeferre held his breath as he watched Enjolras carefully consider his answer. Many members of the general public would be witness to this, every answer had to be immaculate.

"The press rally was brilliant, the public were attentive and very encouraging."

"You had a few problems with the press, didn't you?"

"And the grilling begins." Courfeyrac muttered beside Combeferre. _Careful, Enjolras. Careful._ Combeferre was well aware that Enjolras could not hear him, but he had faith that Enjolras would retain his common sense.

"You will always have trouble with press, madame. But, we are prepared for any challenging questions."

"Nice!" Courfeyrac cheered.

"Courf, be quiet, I can't hear him!" Combeferre hit his arm jokingly.

"Hmm...now tell us about your policies. Why do you feel the need to change Paris so much? Feel free to elaborate as much as you want."

This was it. Enjolras' centre stage.

Enjolras shifted in his seat, his hands gesturing in the air to illustrate his points. His speech was pristine, and his spirit was inspiring. He was ready for this. It was evident.

"The population of Paris is growing fast, and with it is coming rising inflation. I saw the way your eyes widened. You were not aware were you? Well, allow me to enlighten you all on some issues that Beauvais had not had the courage to tell the public. We have at this moment, rising inflation, and the people in industry are suffering due to it. With the inflation, the wages of many industrial workers wages have been dropping over 25%. These statistics have been masked by the fact that the middle and upper class have high wages, and their increases are passed onto the government. Whilst that goes on, the people in the slums are suffering. There is high unemployment, with trade union's losing their voice. There is an economic division throughout Paris, making crime levels hit startling high rates. I mean, there are more schoolchildren, leaving at minimum age to assist their suffering families more than ever now. And why is this not being told? Because universities cherish the public school intake more. Not to mention, that child services had been abandoned in the slums as well."

The interviewer sat stunned at these new profound facts. This was the representation of Paris. The press may ridicule the Les Amis de l'ABC, but it was only because they had no concept of the problems they were facing. The corruption that under their feet, latched on their backs, floating above their heads. It was all there. They just did not bother to look.

"So, you see." Enjolras continued. The anger he felt toward's the authority figures of Paris, whose duty had been to protect these people, finally releasing. All those nights spent working finally sparked. "You can all attempt to reason that there is nothing there. But, the fact working class are not sharing the prosperity. You just cannot see it in front of you."

"But, aren't you rich? Do you not come form a rich background?"

"I do, and I am not saying that all middle class people are evil, or morally wrong. I am saying that they have the facilities, the resources to help the working class. If we worked together, Paris could be magnificent."

"Do you really have that much faith in the French citizens?"

"I believe with careful planning and better educational provisions, just as my friends do. That every man in France can be, and will be a King."

The rest of the interview was spent discussing different events that the Les Amis were due to attend, so Combeferre and Courfeyrac paid no attention to the remainder of the segment. They were already aware of the tasks that lay ahead.

"That was amazing!" Courfeyrac high-fived Combeferre in celebration. It truly was, Enjolras had brought all their beliefs in one paragraph and lit the screen. Now, they had to wait for the reports to pile in, and hopefully for the positive opinions to rise them above Beauvais. With their policies, their passion, and their friendship, Courfeyrac was certain, they would take this election by storm. They were talking amiably when Bahorel staggered in, covered in sweat and specks of blood on his shirt. Courfeyrac and Combeferre rose in alarm.

"Christ! What happened to you?!" Courfeyrac moved forward to assist the limping Bahorel, who was grinning a thousand star smile.

"Fear not, Courf! I've been boxing." The two men rolled their eyes at Bahorel's devil-may-care behaviour. Nevertheless, they joined in with his laughter. The positive outcomes of Enjolras' interview had put them both in joyous spirits.

* * *

Everyone in the Slums had taken the time to watch Enjolras' interview, the interview that Eponine had no knowledge of so it is not difficult to imagine her surprise at the number of people who were present in a normally vacant bar. She had spent the entire morning serving people, and watching the interview whilst attempting to balance bottles in her arms. She was impressed by the politician. He had more fire and passion than she had anticipated. To her, he had seemed like a man of empty promises, but seeing him in that interview. Tightening in his seat, his eyes wide in a feverous nature, his heart and soul pouring into his words, she was willing to give him a chance. It was only by five or so, when the people decided to disperse. Her manager, was pleasantly happy at the turnout of the day, so much so, he had offered to give Eponine the day off tomorrow. She had refused, it wasn't as though she had money to spend on herself anyway. She was alone, comfortable in the echoing noses of the dishwasher, and the water from the sink flowing. So comfortable and immersed in her own daydreams, she failed to hear the soft cough from behind her.

"Um...Eponine?" Eponine turned to see a hesitant Cosette standing before her. It had been quite some time before Cosette had been alone with Eponine, their last encounter hasn't been so pleasant. With the pressures of the press rally, Eponine had been hostile towards her. She remembered when Cosette had first entered the bar, how well they had conversed, and how easily Eponine had been prepared to push her away. All because Marius Pontmercy preferred her. She could not stop herself from feeling a sickening feeling of guilt at the pit of her stomach.

"Cosette, hello..."

"Are you busy?" It was typical of Cosette to courteous, even though there was no need to be. She did not owe Eponine any grace or kindness, but that was Cosette's nature.

"Um, no. Please! Uh, sit." Eponine gestured to the seat before her awkwardly, and resumed working to fill the uncomfortable silence. "So, uh, how have you been?"

"Well. How did the press rally go?"

"Good, I think. Thank you for convincing Marius to go." Cosette's eyes lit up at her gratitude and the relief of finding common ground on discussion.

"It's my pleasure. I am surprised at how little he has told me about himself. You two seem close." Cosette's eyes did not give any subtle message away. So, Eponine was not sure whether she was attempting to discover any secrets about Marius and Eponine's friendship, or she was just simply making a comment. Even so, Eponine wanted to laugh bitterly at the word "close".

"We know each other well, but he's closer to you, don't worry."

"I wasn't...?"

"Oh...okay." The silence dawned on them again. Eponine racked her brain for something to talk about, but it seemed Marius was the only feature they both in common. It was to be expected. "Marius! Is, um, quite taken with you." _What am I doing?_

"Well, we are doing very well. It has only been a few days, but I am optimistic about this relationship. I want to thank you for introducing us to each other, this would not have been possible without you."

"He's my best friend. I would do anything for him." _Even watch him fall in love, even it cuts my heart in two. _This talk of Marius Pontmercy was depressing her, and she had done so well for the day to remove him from the depths of her mind. Cosette seemed to be an intelligent being, Eponine knew people like her. All underestimated people like her, expecting her to be a dove, when really, she could be a tiger.

"I remember you telling me that you help at the youth club. What do you do?" Eponine's venture at another conversation topic was successful as Cosette delved into different aspects of her job, and how she assists different children of different backgrounds. As she spoke, Eponine's respect for her grew, she was not petty rich girl. She spent the majority of her time in the Slums. Like the Les Amis, she had experienced poverty, and she was willing to fight against it. Cosette did not hesitate in confessing to Eponine about her past, about how she grown in a cruel childhood home, but her papa had saved her. Her mother was unknown to her, but her papa told her of great tales about her mother. How brave she had been, and how proud he is of her. She would not probe Eponine about her past, but sometimes her eyes would narrow, as though she would try to discover mysterious aspects about Eponine just by watching her. They had lively debates and insightful discussions about the slums and future plans for the youth club. Eponine seized speaking when she noticed a peculiar book left upon the table on her right. It was a battered copy of 1984, by George Orwell. She grinned as her hands moved over the different pages, she stroked different words as she soaked in the feel of a book in her hands. It had been so long since she had held such a masterpiece. For the past few months, she had only felt the cold, harsh surface of alcohol.

"Oh, I adore this book!" Eponine gushed. She had read it many times during her days at school. She had breathed and lived that book.

"My father adores it too, he quotes from it many times."

"Your father is a wise man." Eponine grinned brightly. "It's a life-changing book."

Cosette nodded in agreement. "He always tells me this quote. War is Peace."

"Ignorance is Strength." Eponine continued, enjoying this little game they were playing.

"Freedom is Slavery." An unknown voice continued from behind them. Eponine shrieked in shock and dropped the book on the dusty ground of the bar, as she turned to see their new visitor. _Of course, it would be him. Enjolras._ Enjolras tsked as he lifted the book from the ground, dusting off the particles of the corners. Grimacing as the corners were darker from the impact.

"Is it polite to read someone else's book?" He barely acknowledged Cosette beside Eponine, his sole gaze based on Eponine.

"A book is a book. It should be free for all." Eponine hesitantly replied, not sure where the direction of this conversation was leading.

"Well, not my book, thank you."

Eponine was tempted to stick her tongue out childishly. "I should have known it to be yours. You know, Cosette is here too." Her eyes were challenging his, it was obvious to him. _Go on, be rude. I dare you._ They expressed. Enjolras was not going to retaliate to her childlike ploys.

"I was aware."

Cosette moved to shake his hand, which he complied with, albeit his handshake in return was formal and slightly, cold. He still needed to warm to the woman who had turned his friend into a gushing idiot. Awkwardness enveloped them, no-one sure of what to say. So, Enjolras decided to conduct the task he had arrived to do.

"Eponine, if I could ask for a moment?"

"Oh, um, well I was in the middle of a conversation with Cosette." Her eyes cast over to Cosette, biting her lip, contemplating whether it was wise to leave Cosette on her lonesome.

Rather flippantly, Enjolras remarked. "This is more important." If he had said that to any of his other friends, they would have been used to his dismissive behaviour to small-talk. However, Eponine most certainly was not, she gasped in shock. About to lecture him on courtesy, but Cosette, thankfully saw a storm about to blaze, and decided to take her leave.

"That's quite alright, Eponine. I was just about to meet Marius." Smiling widely as Eponine, and smiling awkwardly at Enjolras, she left. Happy to have fled the awkward scenario.

"Shall we begin?" Enjolras gestured to the empty chair beside him. Eponine stayed rooted to the spot where she stood, her arms crossed in hostility, wearing an unamused pout. Enjolras rolled his eyes at her behaviour. "What have I done, now?"

"Okay, I understand that there is some deep rooted anger towards Grantaire, and that's why you're rude to him. But, what did Cosette ever do you?!"

Enjolras could not believe what he was hearing. Why, was it that every movement he made was sin to Eponine's eyes? "Oh, for god's sake, I didn't do anything. I shook her hand, I was fine."

"Telling someone that your conversation is more important than theirs is not "fine". Seriously, Enjolras, for a politicien your people skills are horrific."

Realizing that Eponine was not going to sit beside him, he stood to level with her. "I did not come here to discuss my people skills, I came to discuss business with you. I'm not like Marius, Eponine. I do not care for little things, like small-talk and other politeness strategies that people use. I like to get the job done. So for the love of sanity, will you please stop lecturing me?!"

"Oh, so you're allowed to lecture me, and I'm not?"

"I never lecture you!"

"God, why are you so frustrating, Enjolras?!"

"Why are you both frustrating?!" A foreign voice yelled behind them. The others had arrived. Staring at them in disbelief was Combeferre, he had seen the mess of a fight they had been having. Taking on the instinctive parental figure he always seemed to. He pushed Enjolras and Eponine down in their seats, ordering them to quit their bickering so they could begin their meeting. He tried not to think about how close their faces had been in their heated argument, or the way Enjolras had been reaching for her hand to grasp. The others sat down also, all wearing confused expressions at the discovery of their little feud. Combeferre's voice was wearing with exhaustion. "Can we begin?" Eponine watched for Enjolras' response. He nodded, although stiffly. She nodded also, her arms still crossed. "Good." Shuffling the paper on the desk and sending a warning glare to Enjolras, he signalled to Eponine. "Did you watch Enjolras' interview?"

"Yes."

"What did you think?"

"...It was better. Although, too factual."

"_Of course it was._" Enjolras muttered under his breath, but everyone heard nonetheless. He knew that by the way, Eponine's head jerked and she glared daggers into him. The way Combeferre's head was tilted, Eponine could tell him he was giving Enjolras an equally threatening glower. She tried not to smirk as she felt a burst of victory.

"What could he have done to improve...?"

"Well..." So many independent thoughts rushed through Eponine's mind, she was witty, fast thinker after all. She needed a moment to construct a coherent paragraph. "You need a balance, I mean, yesterday, your speech was too emotive. And today, your speech was too factual. Factual was good, Enjolras. But, the people don't understand statistics as much. Especially the working class, your core voters. You need to strike a balance. You need to level with them personally, whilst showing the press and the authority figures, you have expertise."

What Eponine was proposing was sensible, their previous fight was forgotten. Enjolras' voice was thoughtful as he considered the recommendation. "How would you propose we do that?"

"You need to have a person, a belief in your mind. Not just a vast idea, but you need something to fight for. Fighting for "France" is not enough, because you can't relate to France you can't associate France with anything, You need to fight for something. You need to fight for someone."

"We fight for the working class." Feuilly suggested. Eponine scrunched her noise at the suggestion. It still was not enough.

"That again is too vast. The working class don't know you, just as you don't know them. You don't know about their dreams and ambitions, just the fact that they're struggling for money."

"Who do you fight for, Eponine?" It was Jehan who spoke now, his words were gentle, and he had a delicate smile. Jehan had grown to be fond of Eponine, certain that she would do great things, he knew this just be watching her analyse their speeches from a seat in a run-down bar. He saw her sit up in surprise, she had not been expecting that. Eponine thought to herself, what did she fight for? With no family or friends, did she have a fighting spirit? Well, yes she did, that is why she had been so successful for living on her own.

"I fight for...a friend of mine. Let me tell you about this friend. Her life was rich with luxury as a child, with her family prosperous, and her father wealthy, she hadn't had a care in the world. But, then her father became greedy. And her mother became corrupt. Soon, at the age of ten, she found herself crawling into small space in homes and looting people. She found herself being forced on the streets at night to lure kind people to help her, and then her dad would run out and beat them senseless. She would be responsible for getting rid of the bodies. She had a little brother. He was the sweetest thing in the world. But, her parents detested him. He was lucky, he had escaped at the age of eleven, and found himself in care. She was trapped in this life of crime that she couldn't escape from. She began mixing with the wrong men, dirty, dirty men! But, then she became seventeen, and in the day, when her parents were too busy purchasing from the marché noir, she gathered all she had. Which was very little in fact, and she ran. It's been a hard life on her own, she's been trying so hard to live an honest life. It is so tempting to go back to her family, but she won't do it. She vowed to herself she would never do it. That is who I fight for."

The boys were silent. Some wore smiles, some were tear-eyed, some were expressionless. Enjolras wore an expression, Eponine was not able to decipher.

"And where is she now?" Joly asked gently.

"That doesn't matter. But, what does matter is that she is not the only one. She is one out of hundreds. People who are trying so hard to stay away from corruption. People who are crying out for help, but cannot be heard. Those are the people you need to fight for."

* * *

**_Reviews welcome! :) x_**


	6. Urgent Message

_**I want you all to read this.**_

"_I know we all love and care about history and the beautiful story behind Les Mis, but let's stop and take a moment to talk about some things that are actually going on in the world right now._

_The peaceful protests in Istanbul over Gezi Park took a turn for the bloody on Friday when the Turkish police force started using water cannons and tear gas to attack the unarmed protesters and innocent bystanders without warning. Many have been injured to the point of hospitalisation. This violence is still going on. Not only that, but the media in Turkey has been censored and convoluted, so citizens don't even know what is actually going on. People have been using social media to try to spread the message internationally. _

_We may care deeply about our romanticised stories of the barricades and talk of revolution and freedom, but this sort of stuff is very real and very relevant and it's happening even as we're sitting at our computers reblogging artsy gifsets of the would-be revolutionaries and sobbing over e/R fanart. People are being brutalised because they are using their voices to try to effect change in their country. Freedom has been stripped from these people, but they're not backing down._

_Now, I can tell you that if Enjolras and les amis were around right now, they would be 100% behind them and spreading the word across all media they'd have access to. And I'm saying that we should do the same. So please, inform yourselves and inform others. This is important, and if we care enough about our dead fictional revolutionaries to celebrate them, we can put just as much energy into this living, current cause."_

**_I cannot even begin to explain how sick I feel about the treatment of Turkey at the moment, which is why I urge you tweet these constantly:_**

**_ Valimutlu Police use of force against #direngeziparkı protestors is excessive, unacceptable & breaks international HR standards aforgutu_**

**_ Valimutlu RT_Erdogan Istanbul authorities must immediately stop police violence against peaceful #direngeziparkı protestors aforgutu_**

**_Amnesty International's issuing international call to its activists to take action over police violence in #Taksim #direngeziparkı aforgutu_**

_**Every. Single. Person. Counts. - Thank you, and enjoy the next chapter. x**_


	7. We All Have Stories

After days of stress and workload, Enjolras had finally decided to give his friends a day of rest. Regarding this, Courfeyrac had planted a wet kiss on his cheek, despite his protests. So, as they played video games and talked about their daily lives. It seemed, for once, their lives were pure bliss. The sizzle of the stove could be heard as Joly was to cook a delicious lunch. It was the turn of Jehan, but noticing the chicken on the work plan, Joly had removed Jehan from the premises until further notice. Jehan had no objection; after all, he was able to continue to write his song. With cries of Courfeyrac and curses of Bossuet, as he hit another virtual wall, and the sweet laughter of Combeferre, Jehan smiled fondly. Oh, how he loved pastimes with friends. The song was inspired when he heard the sweet chirping of a bird, and when there was a show of one of the many Enjolras' speeches, the words had formed in his mind. Day and night, he became obsessed with this masterpiece of harmony, so much so, he did not want to inform his friends until there was a finished product. However, Courfeyrac had noticed him in his excited nature, but Jehan was adamant that they should expect it to be perfected. "It" clearly ambitious for them. He tried to coax a response from Jehan today, but Jehan smiled his mischievous smile and buried his nose in his book, aggravating Courf to his pleasure. Seeing that there was no use persuasion, Courfeyrac decided to address the issue that had been harassing the depths of their minds.

"So…what do you all think of Eponine's story?" The room was silent as the question echoed everywhere; every man had stopped their movements. Caught in the trap. These were intelligent boys; such a story emotionally motivated must have a personal message inside.

"What I think does not matter, Courf. It's her business." Combeferre contributed, he closed his book and lent his side. His way of discipline was different to Enjolras, he would have used soft words, but they are also highly effective.

"Aren't you curious about it though?" Courfeyrac probed, his head was tilted in contemplation. There was something about this story, something suspicious, he knew.

"I am. But, I respect Eponine. Just like the rest of you should." He watched the rest, some nodded in agreement, and some had their heads bowed in embarrassment. He agreed with Courfeyrac. The story was unusual; she went to such a depth that would have affected her in some way. It may have been her best friend? Combeferre shook his head at the suggestion. No, she did not have best friends. She never had visitors at the bar. Friends visit their friends at work when they have the opportunity, is that not it? What these boys did not realize is that they were so used to being around close camaraderie, that the man standing next to you would, without hesitation, take a bullet for you. They were so familiar with the comfort of being surrounded by friendship. In contrast to Eponine was alone. This was perhaps why the story had affected them.

"Tell you what though, I didn't realise how much she affected Enjolras." Bossuet remarked casually, as if it was so normal that their marble statue was so easily provoked. He was passionate, but he had the patience. After all, their group had to be careful around the public and the press. Combeferre had to physically stop himself from sitting in haste, but Joly had already noticed the slight tremor.

"Something catch your attention, Combeferre?"

"Ah, yes! Do enlighten us, dear philosopher!" Courfeyrac smile was contagious, like the other faces of his friends that reflected his expression as they looked Combeferre in pending. The gentle and conservative nature of Combeferre was threatened. It was so hard for him not to yell at them and criticize them for their blindness, not to see what was happening between the two. They were so well together, but so wrong.

"Nothing, it's um, never mind." He shook his head and returned to his book. Ignoring the confused expressions of his friends, he tried to calm down. He analysed this too much, he was sure. He tended to do that. Jehan began writing furiously once more in his notebook. "What gives, Prouvaire? When are you going to show us this song?"

"Tonight, actually!" Jehan's soft beam illuminated each shadow in the room. "At the café, there's a poetry reading and I thought it would be nice to sign as well…?" His suggestion was given in a timid voice, but pats on the shoulder and encouraging cheers from his friends gave him confidence to straighten his shoulders with pride and excitement.

"I look forward to it." Courfeyrac clinked his bottle with Jehan's. A content smile returned to Combeferre's features. Worried thoughts about his best friends long since forgotten.

* * *

On the other side of Paris was a girl, scrubbing the mould walls, wincing in disgust as another spider latched onto her fingers, and refused to let her be free of dust. The moisture from her neighbour above had traced through her walls, which gave such a horrible smell, she vomited the second she woke up. Eponine was losing her grip on sanity. The cracked buzz echoed throughout her cramped conditions, she had a sense of relief to have an excuse to take a break, she willingly answered the door. To say she was disappointed to see the man on the other side, would be an understatement and false. It was her landlord. His leering, ogling landlord. She crossed her arms in self-awareness.

"Bonjour, my dear Eponine." _Oh, god his breath is horrific._ She had to brace the threshold, to be able to stand there without letting her thoughts surface.

"Bonjour…" Her voice was shaking with worriment.

"It's that time again." "I don't have it, yet. I get paid by the end of the week."

"Oh, no. I must have it now, Time is short, my beauté." He leaned in; she scrunched her nose as his stench intensified. "I'll give you until the end of tomorrow, otherwise you'll have to…"He pressed his lips to her ear. Eponine felt her eyes fill with tears of panic. "…pay me some other way". He quickly walked away and left her trembling on the threshold. His body swaggering away, he was vermin. She shut the door in stunned silence, but then she broke. Crumbling to the ground, her body heaving. She clenched her fist to her mouth as the tears have become stronger. It was so long that she felt this way. So helpless. She promised, she swore to herself she would not come back to that life. She had become corrupted at a young age. She was determined to lead an honest life. _I've already sold my body once before. I'm not putain de going back there._

* * *

It would make Cosette upset, had she known the distress that Eponine was experiencing, whilst she felt like a queen. With her arm tucked into Marius' elbow, they were strolling through the butterfly garden near her home in Rue Plumet. Her laughter was a song, as her hand would touch her mouth; her eyes would light up with a sparkling fire as Marius gazed down upon her in astonishment. He had been so fortunate, to find such a wonder in the universe. And to be able to name it his. Their love was blazing, and any man who called him a fool, he would shun. For the first time, he felt so alive. To have something to fight for. When he saw the children on the streets of the slums, he would be reminded of how dedicated Cosette was to loving these children. When he saw books in Enjolras' office, he would remember the way Cosette handled her father's books, with those delicate fingers of hers moving in such grace. He loved to kiss those fingers, in modesty and compassion. They spend many of their hours together, sometime in comfortable silence, others, in joyous exchanges. Sharing each other's dreams and wishes. When they were not together, their souls yearned for each other. So, it is not surprise that upon meeting Jean Valjean, Cosette's father, Marius was beyond nervous. He wanted to be accepted by this man, after all, it was very much possible that Valjean would be his father-in-law. He had told Cosette of his wishes of their future, any other woman would have mocked him for his sensitivity, but not Cosette. No, she had kissed his strong jawline, and whispered benevolent compliments in his ear. She wanted to be his forever also.

So, as they lay in the grass in the garden, hands intertwined with their souls, Cosette pressed her against his side, his arm embraced her in protection and affection. She was so lonely until now, and he was deprived of this right until now. She smiled slightly as he kissed her forehead.

"Marius?" She played with the tips of his fingers, making him chuckle.

"Yes, mon amour?"

"Are…Eponine and Enjolras…involved?" She heard him chuckle with a start. He straightened, and gazed down at her incredulously. The idea of Enjolras with someone was ridiculous to him, not to mention such a character as Eponine.

"As far as I am aware, non." She missed his heat. In a playful way, she brought him back to her side. Her mind remembered the night she had witnessed the tacit passion between Enjolras and Eponine. The way he had straightened his shoulders, as she had pressed her against him in contempt. Both unaware of the fire of fury in their eyes, despite their hostility towards each other. If they were not currently involved, she had no doubt that something would trigger.

"Are you sure? When they spoke towards each other, I sensed this chemistry between them both. I was certain they were familiar with one another, but were too afraid to show it before me."

"Oh, no! Enjolras is far too concerned with the election and his political cause to even look at someone." He began to trail off… "Although…"

"Yes?"

"Well, Eponine and Enjolras ever happen? It would be unusual, but it would work." He stood up again; his speech began to accelerate as his mind raced. How could he miss that? "I mean, she is Paris personified. She is witty, kind, charitable, and very politically aware. She would keep his feet on the ground and be not be afraid to challenge him. The only man who can control Enjolras is Combeferre but even Combeferre has limits. Eponine would be natural to deal with the antics of Enjolras. And Enjolras! In this fight, out of all of us, Enjolras is the most caring about the people. _She_ is the people, and-"

"Mon amour!" Cosette laughed, and shook her soft hand against his pale lips. "You are elaborating far too much, do you really care that much?"

"Well, of course I do. Eponine deserves happiness, she is my best friend. I only want what is best for her." Cosette cocked her head in meditation. Eponine had told herself, but in the eyes of Marius lit a glow as he spoke about his best friend's. Eponine eyes were dull. As if a message had dawned on her. Cosette could not feel, but curiosity about what could cause such a deflation in one person. The temptation to caress her lips became too strong, so Marius dipped his head and pressed lightly against her upper lip. He felt her sigh and sink against his body, tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss.

A loud cough vibrated behind them.

Marius and Cosette sprung from shock and embarrassment. Behind them stood Valjean with a pained look on him. This was not surprising, after witnessing his innocent daughter in improper practices. Always brave and wild, Cosette rose and kissed her Papa. With a leading hand to his significant half, she was the only one wearing a satisfied smile. A hot flush spread across the cheekbones of Marius which hid his freckles, some may argue that should be considered impossible.

"Papa, this is Marius. Marius, this is my dear Papa." Ignoring the awkwardness that followed, it allowed them to learn. Marius leaned forward, his hand outstretched in courtesy, Valjean did not shake. She felt a twinge of guilt, but observing the shudder of her beloved was a little fun, after all, he was so confident in her company.

"So, you are the man taking advantage of my daughter." Valjean's eyes were challenged. He was a charitable man, but when it came to the matters over Cosette, he became a powerful protector. He had promised her mother that she would live in his protection, until his last breath.

"What? No! I-"Marius began to sputter; the blush has now extended to the base of his neck. His rambling was cut short by the unexpected laugh of his wild and sweet Cosette.

"Oh, my darling, my father has a strange sense of humour. He is kidding with you." She took his hand in reassurance.

"Am I?" Valjean's cocked his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Cosette rolled her eyes at her father's games.

"Yes. Now, leave us be, Papa. Go back to your reading." Before her father could protest, she pulled on Marius, and they both began to walk on the path of butterfly garden once more. It was awkward in the eyes of Valjean, but he could not help but admire the way the arms of Marius were placed around her, as if she were so precious, he did not want the wind to whisk her away.

* * *

"Hey, pretty lady! Have we met before?"

Eponine's day had brightened the moment he walked through the door laughing, she passed a glass Grantaire. Enjoying his carefree nature, she implored his friendly presence. Surprisingly, not of Marius', he smiled her special smile for her and swallowed the sweet, red liquid down. His eyes sparked alcoholic happiness, feeling the emptiness of the day dissolve; he leaned down and placed a wet kiss on her forehead. She grimaced and wiped the slobber of her eyebrow.

"What is the use of coming here, if you are already drunk, Grantaire?"

"Oh I am not yet, but I plan to be." Without warning, he jumped over the counter and began to mix different drinks together, singing songs as he conducted in gaiety. She knew it was not wise to try to stop him. Alcohol had the opposite effect on Grantaire to normality, for Grantaire, it gave him the strength. He would be able to pick her up and turn her around for an hour and be only slightly asthmatic. The next hour was spent on drink, and telling humorous stories of their past lives. She made her own, most of them were fantasies and changes in real memories she had of her childhood. She was interested, how the tales of Grantaire always moved around Enjolras, the man in the stories of Grantaire was so different from the man she now knew. She was speechless in surprise as Grantaire told her pranks that Enjolras had been conducted during the summer, how he had turned Marius blue by dying the pool, or how he had chased Courfeyrac through the vineyard in his underwear without shame because Courfeyrac replaced all the books in his room with Mills and Boons novels. Where was that Enjolras now?

The stories were interrupted by a troubled Marius who ran for Eponine. Grantaire frowned as her eyes filled with delight, and the way her eyes were captured by Marius. _You have got to be kidding me. She had been doing so well. _

Marius nodded towards Grantaire swiftly before turning his attention towards Eponine, his breath was shallow, his eyes not focused. "Hey, 'Ponine, could I borrow 10 Euros?" He heard Grantaire let out a shocked cry at his demand, confused, he chose to ignore the incomprehensible, angry whispers Grantaire committed under his alcoholic breath. She was so excited by his presence she absently handed him ten euros; it was only when Grantaire asked Marius about his intentions, that her senses parked once more.

"Oh, I'm taking Cosette to the theatre, I needed spare money." It was there. The shattering sound of her heart, dagger dug deeper into her veins, the thorns tearing her nerves, emotions suppressed released. Marius left without a farewell. She collapsed in her seat, hands pressed against her forehead in shame, she looked so weak. She fought against the men built like rocks, she had survived without food for days and even Marius Pontmercy with his beautiful eyes and full lips, the alone lawyer, could be her downfall.

"Eponine, this has to stop." Grantaire's voice was not scolding, it was sympathetic. "I know." She brushed the tears away.

"But, how do I stop Grantaire? Do you know- that he-"she began to hiccup as the sobs submerged. "That he's the only thing that has kept me clean? He's the only thing that had stopped me from going back. Going back to the excessive alcohol drinking, the drug abuse, and the low life. I did it for him!" Her fist hit the surface of the counter; her cheeks were matted with tears, eyes bloodshot with despair and grief. Grantaire did not speak, he just rocked her in his arms, and the tears spilt on his shirt, blue mixed with silver, he could always buy another shirt. There was no other woman as Eponine, he would repair the damage. Fix her.

"Do you promise that you will never attempt to win Marius' heart, when you know, that it is taken? And, he is not worth your precious time."

Eponine frowned at noise of simplicity, he was sounding. Did he not suffering from a broken heart, with more life stress? You could not just leave your loved one on their own, hoping that by some miracle, you will be cured by the morning. Oh, how she wanted a miracle. Her features changed completely as a mischievous smile illuminated her eyes. She was a sly girl indeed. "Only…if you tell me, about your history with Enjolras."

"What?! No, no, no, no-"

"Oh, come on, Grantaire!" She grasped his hands in begging. "How do you expect me to help their party if there are mysterious feuds between the members? I need to know what's going on!"

"You don't care about that! You're just curious!" Grantaire stood to leave, but Eponine was adamant, she shut the doors locked before he had the opportunity to exit. "You're keeping me prisoner?"

"Whether I'm curious or not, doesn't matter. Please, Grantaire?!" Grantaire reflected her mischievous smile.

"Fine. But, you have to promise me that you will try your hardest to forget about Pontmercy…"

"Deal." "…and should you not, I get to throw drinks at you."

"What? No!"

"Too late, you already said deal!" Eponine grimaced at his childishness, but complied. She sat on the couch at the end of the room and let him have his time to tell his story.

"I know, that you think Enjolras is cold, and distant. He's…really not. Enjolras and I were very close, we were best friends. We had many great times together, and I miss him deeply. There was a day, where my father had enough of me, and chose to cut me off, financially and socially. By that, I mean, when I returned home, my bags were outside and my father shouted from the window – "Good riddance!" I was so alone, but Enjolras took me in, he helped me get a job and everything."

"Then, I started drinking and gambling, and soon, I could not pay half of our rent. Enjolras was very loyal to me, he paid for it all. Soon, I began to take advantage of his friendship, and began gambling more and drinking more, to the point where I was in great debt. Enjolras, by then, was losing money because he was supporting me, even though I did nothing. He lost faith in me. Quite rightly too." Grantaire had tears in his eyes by this point in his narration. His lips were pouted in prevention of them quivering.

"Listen to me, Eponine. He admires you, greatly. He values your company, despite what you might think about him. Do not, ever, let him go. Don't make my mistake. I have lost a great friend." He could not stay longer, without a word, he left. He threw the wine bottle in the trash. Eponine sat at her post for a while before resuming her duties. The history of Grantaire had certainly changed her perspective on Enjolras, on all of them. She could not decipher, however, why she was so interested in the affairs of Enjolras in the beginning.

* * *

_**I know, lack of E/E, but this filler chapter had to be done, because it will set the story in motion, I hope you enjoyed it regardless. Reviews always welcome! x**_


	8. Heroes and Heroines

You may have been wondering where the location of Enjolras was throughout this "day of rest", much to his secrecy; Enjolras was occupied at a local childcare home, which he spent his leisure hours teaching the children. Some have the misconception that Enjolras is not suited for children, which is wrong, Enjolras is not a father figure, but he was the ideal teacher. He would not patronize, but he would not neglect. The ages of the children ranged from ages of two to ages of thirteen, there were other teenagers older that would visit him if they required assistance, but the majority of the time, they would visit him because he was such an interesting character. He was not a fan of favouritism, but there was a certain young man whom he admired deeply. This boy was named Gavroche. Although, only at the age of eleven, Gavroche bore the weight of the cruel world on his nimble shoulders. He stood by his duty of care for never-ending hours. A boy cornered by bullies? Gavroche would save him. A girl harassed by a pervy teenager? Gavroche would hurt him severely. A child shivering to his death on a street corner? Gavroche would carry him home. Enjolras had great expectations for Gavroche; perhaps, when he aged greatly, Gavroche could continue his work, make it better.

In the mornings of his workdays, Enjolras would visit the home to teach them different subjects, it was invigorating for his mind as well as theirs. Enjolras had trouble sleeping anyway, so it no real loss. His friends would try to catch him in the morning before he departed to his mysterious journeys, but he was too cunning for them. At this moment, he was teaching young Eleanor how to read. She was very stubborn; she would cling onto his jacket to make certain he would not leave until she had finished every page of the book. Her tongue would stick out, as her eyes would scrutinize. It would lead to the point where she would push every other child out of the room so she had complete silence for her priorities. Enjolras had once called her Eponine by mistake. It had scared him slightly why.

"Enjolras?"

"Yes, Eleanor?"

"Have you ever been in love?" The question had caught him off-balance, he was used to his friend badgering him to date, but for a child to be so interested in his personal life was most unusual.

"No, Eleanor. I haven't. I don't have time."

"That's sad." Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows at her in confusion; her comment had been stated so blandly. As though, not to love was the cruelest fate a human could face. This counteracted most principles he upheld.

"No, it isn't. There's more to life than love." Eleanor hit his arm with the book she held closely; she had begged him for a more challenging book. So he had bought in a book of fairy tales, she enjoyed the stories of heroes and heroines. She had notified him earlier that she was intending to write her own stories.

"I know that, silly! I just think that love would be nice for you. You look lonely, Enjy." He only ever allowed the children to call him Enjy.

"I'm not lonely, Eleanor. I assure you. Can we read on?"

"You look nervous. Did I annoy you? Oh, I'm sorry. I always do that. That's why the other children don't like me. Because, I'm so honest. Am I too honest, Enjy? Should I lie more? But isn't lying wrong, I mean-"

"_Eleanor. _Read."

"Urgh, fine. But only if you read in your dragon voice."

"…Fine."

* * *

It hurt every day to see him go, but he had other priorities too. As much as he loved to educate the minds of future Paris, there was an election to head with his friends. When it was time to leave, he talked with the head of the children's home, Monsieur Guilmette. The gentleman was a charitable man, he spent his winnings of his lifetime to renovate the children's home, and his legacy used to develop the institution, so more children could find a home. So, being only at the age of fifty, Monsieur Guilmette's movement was limited, having been forced to use a cane to push through the daily obstacles, it was pitiful. He never talked about the "accident" that caused such a travesty, but Enjolras, being intuitive inquired. Catching Monsieur Guilmette as he lost balance and fell on his weight, Enjolras could not keep his thoughts from surfacing.

"Forgive me, Monsieur, if this is an impertinent question, but did you have the misfortune to get such an injury?" Sweat broke on the front of Guilmette, his breath scraggy and bloodshot eyes from the struggle of walking. He gestured to the seats behind them, lifting his weight as a feather; Enjolras gently placed him at the centre of the couch.

"Allow my breath back, my son. _Haahhuu..._" He coughed violently, phlegm pushing through the walls of his throat; he pushed Enjolras away when he bent down to help him. He might have been injured, but he was not useless. "I gained this injury two years ago, I had come across Thernadier, do you know him?"

Enjolras nodded gravely, Thernadier, he did not know personally, but he was much more familiar with the consequences of his convoluted plans. He had dealt with many children who had been victims of his robberies, and many men who had been deceived by a man they trusted. The Les Amid d'le ABC worked deeply to solve the problems of crime in the slums, but as long as Thernadier was present, the crime rate did not decrease. There was a snake in the grass. The demon who sucked the soul of the French people. Thernadier.

"Thernadier attacked me like an animal, beating me senseless. He dragged me through the pebbly streets of the Paris Slums, screaming at me to stop resisting. I would have died, Enjolras, had it not been for his daughter. His daughter fought him, giving me the opportunity to run. She was so brave. My injury means nothing; I dread to think the fate that awaited her for her heroic actions."

It seemed absurd to Enjolras, that Thernadier was still be able to afford to maintain the life of his children to a level of survival, let alone a satisfactory standard. He, too, could not bear to think what she had to face, to take pity on an innocent man. "Who is his daughter?"

"Her name was-"

"Enjolras!" Gavroche ran in, interrupting the reveal. "Your taxi is here." Enjolras grimaced slightly; he had been interested in finding the name of this valiant child. Perhaps, for another day. He waved to the smiling faces of the children, they cheered him goodbye. Departing for a vigorous work day, he heard the shrill screams of a woman and the insult of a drunken man. Being the hero that he was, he left the taxi to help the woman. He did not need to. The woman had pulled the drunk by the ear, hand bag high, strong voice booming in to his guilty red-rashed ear. Enjolras keeled over in laughter, Musichetta, his friend was fending for herself, quite remarkably as well.

"You touch me again, Brujon, and I will not hesitate to beat you with this bag, senseless. I am not your helpless victim!" She beat him on the back of the head with her bag anyway.

"Having fun there, Musichetta?" She grinned in response to his amused voice, letting Brujon stumble away, she hugged him hello.

"As always in the slums, Enjolras. Are you to go to the headquarters? I'm headed there now." Musichetta was the partner of Joly, they were in love, but Enjolras admired how they could act as professional. Joly was wild about her, he loved her spirit and how literat eshe was. Enjolras would often go to their office, only to hear them arguing over a certain medical phenomena. It was often misinterpreted that Enjolras did not like women, which was not the case; it was just to find women as Musichetta was rare. He enjoyed her company and her dynamic with Joly.

"I am, yes. I have a taxi ready though...So I'll meet you there." "That's fine, Enjolras. It was wonderful to see- BRUJON! I CAN SEE YOU." Enjolras did not turn his head, but heard the clatter of cans; it was assumed Brujon made his feeble escape after being surprised by Musichetta. They left for the headquarters separately.

* * *

When Enjolras came to office, he heard the howling laughter of Bossuet, and the gentle chuckling of Combeferre. Intrigued by the beginning of the good spirit, he entered the colourful office of Courfeyrac in silence, full of Rubik cubes and sports magazines scattered on the desktop. They were all circled around the desk, listening intently to the story of Grantaire. It annoyed him to see Grantaire here, not to mention that he was distracting them from work when they had a huge amount of pressure on them. This man cannot do anything right.

"And then I ate the oyster without looking!" Grantaire concluded, the group exploded into laughter. Some banged their hands against the desk as they howled with laughter. Combeferre had tears in his eyes, his cheeks red from lack of breath.

"As much as I enjoy the tales of oysters, Grantaire. Could you please leave and let my friends get back to work?" Enjolras' posture was severe; arms crossed in defiance, his lips in a tight line. For any other citizen, the position would have been scary.

"He's came to help, Enjolras…" Combeferre's voice was calm, he slowly stood up, and ready to stop Enjolras screaming if it came to that. The situation was delicate; he could see that Enjolras did not sleep with the black rims around his eyes, sagging cheeks, and his tousled hair. "We don't have anyone to go to the Barriere du Maine, Grantaire offered to go for us."

"Absolutely not. He can't lead a meeting; he can't even hold a bottle sturdily!"

"I am right here, thanking you Enjolras." Grantaire had stood now, no evidence of a drunken state. "I have a vague idea of what you want, I can do it."

"You want to do something, Grantaire?"

"Anything. I'll polish your boots."

"Then, stay out of our affairs. You're not wanted here." Others tensed. Grantaire bit his lip in agitation, he had spent the whole night to contemplate his rivalry with Enjolras, after the conversation with Eponine, he had realized how much he longed for the presence of Enjolras again. He missed the days they would meet for lunch and talk for hours, they were best friends. How dare he throw that all away? Nevertheless, he was hung over, so he was not in the right state of mind. His back ached, his temples burned. Enjolras was serious, Grantaire was fierce.

"Maybe one day, Enjolras, you will learn how to take that stick out of your derrière."

"Christ. Here we go…" Courfeyrac muttered under his breath, his radiance diminished.

"Get out. For good." Enjolras seethed.

"Wha-what?" Grantaire uttered in shock.

"I don't want you in here ever again, do you understand? You are drunk, you are insolent, and you have no faith in what we do. So, don't waste our time." There was a long silence before Grantaire finally left. The air was sucked out of the room, the minds of men deflated. How right it was, at that time, there was a boom of thunder in the sky and the rain fell on the windows clear. Enjolras left without a word.

* * *

Enjolras was alive with rage and anger, Eponine was a ghost in the day. Her eyes were vacant, her hollow voice, her robotic movements. This is because her mind was busy finding a loophole. Her stomach was knotted with fear, she felt the sensation of bile rising up her system, but it never came. Her legs were trembling constantly, her trembling hands with a tingling sensation of fear. She would have to beg. Beg her manager to spare her mercy, and give early gains. It would be quite a struggle, but she had to. Throughout the ten hours she had worked there, the world had evaporated around her. She saw the glow of the sun reflected in the glass, but otherwise she was not herself. Nobody had bothered to notice how she was distracted, so it was quite the shock when Enjolras stormed in cursing.

"He does nothing right. And he makes me feel guilty, why?! Why should I feel guilty?!" His breathing was fast, and ragged. He was sweating profusely, the buttons of his shirt undone, with his tie slung around the base of his neck carelessly. He had not noticed her. "Grantaire, the fucking idiot…", he pressed his face into the palms of his hands in exasperation. The hours of lost sleep catching up with him.

"I would offer you a drink, but I don't want your state worse…"

Enjolras quickly jumped at the sound of her voice, he felt stupid for not realizing that she had witnessed the loss of control. He aimed to be defensive, if it had not been for the way he noticed her trembling hands. She lifted a plate of food, and just let it crash on the floor. She bit her lip to stop the tears come. _Not in front of him, for the love of God._ Enjolras silently helped her carry food to the counter. Not wanting to impose on her personal problems. She did not hesitate to release her curiosity, after all, she grew tired of their rivalry, as well as others.

"So, Grantaire, huh?" She poured a glass of wine Enjolras scrunched his nose in disgust at the smell.

"It's nothing."

"Well, I already know the story, so you don't need to be your regular-defensive Enjolras." She raised her glass in mock joy, her eyes sparkled with amusement. It was the first time her eyes had expressed emotion.

"I'm not regularly defensive…" His voice was stern, but his eyes were crinkled in humour. It was nice to have jokes with someone; he was so used to people to tiptoe around him. Ready to burst. Eponine raised an eyebrow, so provoked him further. "I'm not defensive! I like to justify."

"Riiiiight…" Enjolras did not retaliate; he looked at the shot glass to his left. Grabbing thoughtlessly, he threw the vodka back. There was a fiery burning in his throat, he gagged. He was reminded why he hated alcohol.

"I ordered Grantaire to leave the party."

"You did what?!"

"Okay, yes, fine, judge me. But, I did what I had to do. He doesn't about our cause, he doesn't believe in anything. His heart is not cold, it's hollow. His days are spent drinking and gambling, nothing more. I don't need those kinds of people wasting time."

Eponine wanted to hit him.

"He cares about you! And, he misses you. He misses you all. Why do you think he drinks? He drinks to heal his sorrow, or at least forget about it."

"Bu-"

"Let me finish! Did you know that he also drinks to help me? I'm a recovering alcoholic, Enjolras. And to stop me, Grantaire drinks everything before I can. When I see him in his drunken state, I get reminded why I don't drink as much. He does it for me. So, don't judge him. I know that you put your faith in him, and he ruined it. But, sometimes, when people give you're their word; they intend to stick by it." She was breathless by the end of her rant, just as he was. They always seemed to find themselves in each other's presence. Breathless.

"…You're a recovering alcoholic?"

She hit him on the arm this time.

"Of all the things to focus on? Just, give him a chance, okay? He means well."

"I do." An unfamiliar voice called.

Eponine and Enjolras turned to see a melancholy Grantaire standing in the doorway, clutching his red jacket. "Eponine, do you mind if I have a few words with Enjolras?"

Eponine gave him an encouraging smile. Before leaving, Eponine pressed her hand to Enjolras' chest, unknowing how his heartbeat raced. She whispered in his ear. "No judging okay?" She left to confront her manager.

* * *

"I'm not looking for an apology; I know you're incapable of that." Grantaire pushed the glass of wine away from him. He had paced through his lonely flat, fuming at Enjolras' behaviour, but then he had realized that they were back to where they had been a few months ago. Enjolras had told him to leave his apartment, because he was taking an advantage for good. Grantaire had not fought for his place, or Enjolras' trust, he would not make the same mistake.

"I can apologize! I've apologized to Eponine…why are you giving me that look?" The look given was a raised eyebrow and a smug smile on Grantaire's part. He was no surprised that Enjolras had swallowed his pride and gave Eponine power; she had some effect on him, an effect he could not name.

"Nothing. But, I did come to talk about things. You underestimate me, Enjolras. You don't do me justice; you presume that I'm just a brute and that all I want to do is drink. Well, no, I love the people of France, perhaps even to some extent that you do. I'm just realistic, and I have different views and whilst you might think that's me being discouraging, it's not. You're a great man, Enjolras. A great man who I used to be best friends with and I know that I will support no matter what. You have a difficult time ahead of you, we all do. And I will stand by your side, damn the consequences. That is my apology."

He expected Enjolras to sneer, to throw a glass of wine at him and ridicule him. Enjolras smiled. He grasped hold on Grantaire's hand in a firm shake. Throughout Grantaire's confession, there was a voice speaking to him, _no judging_, so he did not. "I agree to try you, Grantaire."

* * *

Her manager was nice, but he prioritized his business, to convince him for his aid would be a difficult task. She knew she had to use all her power; she had to get on her knees and beg, if it came to that. Clinging to his arm, and pulling him in the back storeroom, she prepared her speech.

"I apologize, Monsieur, as this is inappropriate, but I need to ask you. I need my earnings early, fifty euros, that's all. I am begging you, I need it today." Her heart broke at the sight of him scoffing.

"You must be kidding, Eponine, I can't. I don't have the money to give you." Eponine felt her body begin to shake with terror.

"Monsieur, please? I beg you, I need it now." She began sobbing. "You don't understand what will happen to me." Her tears stung her. "I will work for it, please I need it!" She held his arm strongly, shaking it furiously in desperation.

"Eponine, that's enough! I'm sorry, but I don't have the money, you'll have to wait until the end of the week." He left her standing there convulsing. Her hands were wrapped in clenched fists; her lips were red from the biting, her throat burning from the silent weeping. She had failed. _Oh, god, I have to sell my body to him._ "Oh, god, does the world know no mercy?!" Battered by fate, she shuffled to the front of the bar, back to her comatose state. When her senses revved, the sight of fifty euros left on the front bar counter attracted her. _Grantaire must have heard us._ Kissing the money in her hand, she wept again, but this time they were tears of relief, she felt destiny wrap its arms around her and spin her around, she laughed, twirling on the spot, dancing to her song.

* * *

"Well, well, well, look what we have here!" Joly, always happy, ran to embrace Grantaire. They all joined for a movie night at Courfeyrac's, to begin as soon as he was done with his "friend" for the night. Combeferre smiled slightly at the sight of Enjolras happily taking some food from the offer of Grantaire. For once, it was as if they were complete. As a family.

"Oh, crap!" Bahorel swore. Looking down at his empty wallet. "I don't have enough for the pizza, anybody spare?"

"Enjolras, you had some didn't you?"

"How much do you need, Bahorel?" Enjolras inquired, already knowing his wallet was empty anyhow.

"About fifty euros?"

"Sorry. I used my last fifty for something else."

* * *

_**Oooooh, all these connections, interesting, huh? I hope the speed of E/E is alright, I love writing this fanfic, after having a rubbish day, it definitely had lifted my spirits. I hope you're all well and enjoyed reading it :) Review please! x**_


	9. The Highest Fall

_**Review response: sarah. - Thank you so much for the review, yes I agree that it wasn't something Ponine would do, but I had to do it. Nevertheless, I took your feedback on board and used it to return to Eponine's closed-off personality. Which I hope I did well. Thank you so much! x**_

_**Enjooooooooooooy!**_

* * *

There were a few weeks of bliss before their lives were brought under fire again. Eponine had the weeks of no harassment from her landlord, she was ever more grateful for Grantaire, her generous benefactor. Grantaire had the weeks of joy as he was reunited with his friends again, enjoying nights of them in their bars listening to Jehan's songs and poems. He was ever more grateful for Enjolras, for his generous forgiveness. And the others? They had the wonder of friendship, with Grantaire part of their team once more; the headquarters had been more efficient, his expertise ringing many opportunities for their publicity. He knew the right people after all. Grantaire had not waked from a hangover since. Oh, how they wished it would always be this way. But, alas, it could not.

* * *

Enjolras had returned from his lunch with Grantaire and Combeferre. Grantaire had left his separate way as he had booked meetings with several newspapers; Combeferre had commended him on his efforts. The summer was horrific; the vents were at maximum function, the heat seeping through the walls into their veins, generously bringing a hidden, lazy nature. At this ecstatic instant, Courfeyrac and Bahorel were boxing. They would not have been discover, had it not been for Courfeyrac's glove nimbly, flying off and hitting Enjolras smack in the face as he had kindly opened the office door. From one stern look from Enjolras, the games had seized.

"It may be summer, a season of enjoyment, but not of rest- Bahorel…I can see you hitting him under the desk." The hitting quickly ceased. They soon left, not without a childish tongue sticking-out by Courfeyrac, Enjolras smirked. He could not help, the breath of summer from the park was playing with his mind, and his sternness was diminishing. The bellowing singing of Grantaire could be heard echoing through the corridors. Enjolras was not surprised, when Grantaire waltzed in, papers in hand, his laid back nature contagious.

"I see you're wearing a tie and suit, and I am so tempted to make fun of you, but I won't." He threw the papers down on the table carelessly. "Three meetings booked for you. Done and dusted." Enjolras nodded, giving him leave, but his conscience was nagging at him.

"Grantaire, wait!" Grantaire paused in the threshold, not expecting the forthcoming. "I would like to apologize. For not believing you." Grantaire was flabbergasted, weeks ago; you would not have been able to coerce a balanced view from Enjolras, never mind a heartfelt apology. What was the catalyst in these affairs?

"You have nothing to apologize for, Enjolras…"

"I do. I let my opinions get the better of me, and was not thinking about what was best for the party. I am glad I did in the end, you've been working hard, which I am thankful for." Enjolras cast his eyes down, his dignity still intact, but this stepping down was foreign to him. He did not make the habit of seconding his pride, and being modest.

"I'm glad I came to talk to you." Grantaire gave an easy smile, showing that all was forgiven and forgotten. The silence gave a cue for him to leave, but not before the comment. "Oh, by the way, Enjolras…I know what you did with the fifty euros." A wink of his part, and a widened look from Enjolras was his signal to leave.

It was then, across Paris, in a humble home in Rue Plumet, Jean Valjean received a phone call.

* * *

Cosette would awake late on Fridays, as she had no work day, she would take the day of rest, and spend her day in butterfly garden, drawing or voraciously reading. Sometimes she unquestionably would sing whilst gardening and tending to her flowers, as a smiling Valjean listened form his bedroom window. Valjean was not smiling today. Much to his annoyance, he had been notified of a lawsuit that was taking place in England, and as part of his legal career, he had to flee immediately. How was he to hushedly tell Cosette? She voraciously came tiptoeing down the stairs, her hair immaculately designed in the garden flowers and ribbons; she sang morning songs to awake the household. The maids beamed at her twirling figure as she sang her merry way. It broke his heart instinctually knowing what was coming. She sat with him at the breakfast table, talking amiably about her plans for the weekend; it was only when he rejected her homemade croissant that she noticed his stiff figuring. He never failed to taste her food; he never failed to appreciate her efforts. _So, why now? _She wondered.

"Papa, you haven't touched your food." She pressed her hands over his. She nearly recoiled; his hand was as cold as stone.

"Cosette, I must tell you something." He retracted his hand from under her, letting hers fall and bruise. She did not speak, fearing what was to be said. His melancholy expression made her stomach twist in dread. "I was called by a friend of mine. There has been a lawsuit made for a client, I must leave for England immediately. Unfortunately. That is today. The lawsuit must be investigated, prepared and conducted. It should take a good year or so."

She deflated, deeply feeling disheartened that her Papa unquestionably would not be with her for long. Who else will read her to sleep a conscious slumber? Distinctly had she had friends, they may have mocked her for her childish traditions with her Papa, however, is anyone ever too old for magical stories for lullabies by the one wretched soul bruised with adversity who is your saviour? No. Cosette and Valjean had a special relationship, and to not behold him every day was upsetting. But, she was no longer a child, she is brave and strong, and was certain that without that man, she would zealously be fine.

"That is sad, Papa. I hope you enjoy England."

"What? No, Cosette, you shall be joining me."

"Papa. Don't be absurd. I can't leave Paris, what about my job? What about Marius?"

"I telephoned your workplace this morning, they have contacts in England, and they will transfer you to another job. Marius can stay in contact with you." Cosette could not believe what this man was saying. How could she leave her life here so suddenly? The children needed her, Marius needed her. Her life circulated around mothering the children of Paris, and being Marius' support through his hectic lifestyle. She could not betray either of them.

"Absolutely not! How can I leave them all behind? No. I'm staying. I will look after Rue Plumet." She had stood now, her back straight, her eyes alive with fight in her. The Cosette that was in a profound abyss within was waking up. Jean Valjean grew debarred from the benefit of rest.

"Cosette, your income is not enough to keep Rue Plumet."

"Then, I shall live with Marius."

"You must be joking! Young lady, I can't allow you to live with a man who you've only known for a month or so!"

"Marius is good to me, we love each other." Jean Valjean could feel himself growing more impatient and angrier.

"You do not love him. You're young; you're mesmerized by him…infatuated." Cosette was deeply insulted by his patronising tone.

"How would you know love? I have never seen you bat an eyelash at a woman!" Jean Valjean stood back at what he saw. Cosette was leaned over the table, her hands grasping the corners of the table, her voice shrill with fury and rebelliousness. "Papa, I know you mean well, you are gentle and good, but I'm not a child anymore! You can't just expect me to pack my bags and leave Marius, leave the friends I have made, all of them, just because you said so!"

"I can. And I will. We leave in the evening." Jean Valjean left her to her protestations. His heart breaking at the thought of how she must hate him so now, but what could he do? _I vowed to keep her in p__rotection, I must keep the promise I made Fantine._

* * *

Cosette unquestionably could have wept, but she was stronger than that. She had suffered hardship in her mortal journey, and this obstacle would not obstruct her from happiness. She had paced through the corridors, imagining of different ways to confess to Marius of the tragedy that awaited them. With him not pedantically answering his mobile phone, or being unable to visit, she had no choice, but to leave him with only a letter to painfully remember by. She did not wish to leave with him with an emotional voice-mail, an aftermath of her departure. She wanted to declare goodbye properly, being the romantic she knew him to be, she scribed the letter in the sunlight by her wood shuttered windows, and kissed the envelope. Meagrely attempting to relish in the delight that his fingers would touch the tips of her kiss, but she could not. The letter read as so.

_My beautiful Marius, _

_Words can't begin to describe how sorry I am to tell you this. But, I have had to take leave with my Papa to England, it was not my wish, but because of cruel circumstances, fate had forced me to leave your side. Do not fear my love, because I will not leave your side, not truly. I will be true to you; I will not look at another man the same way I look at you. I was so alone and now because you, I am found. I love you. The sunshine will remind me of your smile, the flowers in London will remind me of your laugh, and the busy nature will remind me of your childish energy, my love, I will return in a year, and I can't wait for that day. I want to spend eternity with you, and rest assured, London will not stop my dream of being with you. Please, find it within you to forgive me. I am trying so hard not to cry now, at the thought of not seeing you. Not feeling the rush of you lifting my feet off the ground, not feeling safe in your arms. Oh, I am so sorry for breaking your heart. I love you, and I live to see you again. _

_From yours only, _

_Cosette._

It was only when she had finished the letter, and the thought of who was to deliver it perplexed her. Who could she trust? _Eponine. I can trust, Eponine._

* * *

Have you ever been so happy, that all you intensely desire to do is dance and sing, and imprudently forget the cruel world around you? To deeply feel the centre of the land of infinite space at your fingertips, to feel nature singing to you? That was all Eponine could focus upon. With the less harassment from her landlord, quietening surroundings in her azure tower, she could smile genuinely. The boys distinctly had noticed her new mood, ever making her laugh more, she joined them at times when they visited the bar, deeply feeling euphoric. She selflessly gave Grantaire tender smiles at moments. To only, zealously be received with puzzled glances on his part, _He's so modest. Bless. _

"What makes you so happy, Eponine?" Joly had joined her side, grimacing at the sight of the unwashed glasses. She had not tended to her chores that day, too immersed in her well-awaited fate.

"Let's just say…" She glimpsed at Grantaire's gaze. "I have a protector." Her audience ooh'd and aah'd, to make her giggle. She deeply felt like a princess, and all she had was a generous saviour of fifty euros. It is tragic how ignoble money dictates the outcomes of civilian's lives. Grantaire's eyes had expanded at the word "Protector", and a sly grin illuminated his features. He ran over to Enjolras, pointing enthusiastically.

"Speaking of which-"Enjolras started spluttering, a sudden nervous wreck. His eyes darted around the room in panic, finally settling upon Bossuet's absentminded expression.

"Bossuet!" Everyone directed their attention to Enjolras' outburst, just as he had intended. "You're greying again!" Bossuet's expression transformed into a scowl at the remark. He was greying again; the serum his doctor had prescribed had proven to be incompetent, he unquestionably would argue that it reflected his nature; but, his friends would never let him insult himself in such a method. The room erupted into laughter; some even taking their time to stroke the grey streaks of Bossuet's dying hair. Eponine and Grantaire had not, as they were too preoccupied regarding Enjolras with confused expressions. She would have joined in marvellous-humouredly, however, her manager barked at her to return to her post. Her freedom cut by reality. Enjolras trailed after her shortly. Grantaire, joined with Combeferre behind him, and suspiciously watched in anticipation. "Oh!" Eponine exclaimed, surprised to see Enjolras standing patiently behind her. He seemed troubled. "Are you okay?"

"That depends…" His bottom lip was bit in tension, she felt tingles at the tips of her toes, and it was strange. She had never had an active reaction to him before. "Can I ask you something?" Eponine nodded, slightly worried at the direction of their conversation. Eponine had never seen him lucidly appear anxious, only when it was concerned with politics, which had no association with her. Surely?

"I've been wondering how to ask you this, as I didn't want to impose. Although, I might as well say it as it's been eating away at me. You told me, you were a recovering alcoholic?" He finally peeked up at her, after starting at his feet in unusual dosages of concentration. She felt her body go cold. _You idiot, 'Ponine!_ She scolded herself, she had completely forgotten of her mistaken of few weeks ago. In such a wrath of rage, she had blurted such a delicate secret, to a man she barely knew. How could she have been so stupid? There was only solution. To bring back her skills of a crook, and falsify until he was a fool of the story.

"Enjolras." She gave a shaky laughter, attempting to radiate confidence and truth. "I did that to manipulate you. I'm not, I just needed you to believe me, and so you had a reason to speak to Grantaire and forgive him of his bad deeds." _That was the worst lie you have ever declared._ Enjolras stared blankly at her. No, he had not believed her, she had stuttered and stammered through that "confession", and a drunken man would have perceived her falsehood. However, before he had the opportunity to comment on her inability to articulate, a distressed Cosette staggered in.

* * *

Before Eponine had the opportunity to protest, Cosette flung herself into Eponine's strong wings, sobbing incoherently, her words a blur, her visions a stir. Enjolras grimaced at the interruption, he had been on the verge of an interrogation, with Eponine so temperamental, the last thing, and he truly required was a distraught lover as his obstacle. Eponine patted Cosette awkwardly on the back, unaware of what words would soothe, mouthing "Help" to the others, but they saw the chance to flee and took it. Enjolras remained in the backroom, still intending to resume their previous spirited colloquy.

"Cosette. Let me go." Eponine unlatched the delicate arms of Cosette, and wiped the silent tears from her stark, blue irises. Cosette's stunning beauty still stupefied Eponine. What angel had kissed her on the day of her birth to bring her this way? "What's the matter?" She pressed on.

"I have-to-leav" Hiccup. "-e-Marius-but-I" Hiccup. "Don't-want-to." A shaky hand reached up and cupped her own cheek, rubbing the tears away furiously, ashamed to be seemingly so fragile in front of a strong character, such as Eponine. Cosette admired and respected Eponine deeply, that was the philosophy behind Cosette trusting her so much with the letter. That had been her mistake.

"Where are you going?" Eponine felt shame at how her heart rate oared at the thought of Cosette leaving, perhaps this was fate pushing her forward, showing that whichever woman entered Marius' life, she would be the one to stay by his side. His true love?

"London." Cosette had stopped sobbing now, her voice hoarse and cracked. Eponine felt her heart constrict at her pleasure of hearing the weakness of Cosette's voice. Why was she so delusional today? Enjolras stood as a statue, undetected. Cosette pressed the creased paper into Eponine's palm; it smelt of lavender and petrichor. Cosette must have run through the thunder in pursuit of Eponine. "Will you give that to him?" Eponine nodded, already knowing the true answer. Cosette kissed her cheek in adoration of friendship and took her leave. Her tears silent, but her soul screaming.

* * *

The letter was scorching Eponine's chest, with her forgetful muse in free-fall, her soul conflicting with itself, she busied herself with the chores she distinctly had been blissfully ignoring. Who was she kidding? Egoism is the very essence of a noble soul. It unquestionably would not be long before drama stomped its way into her mortal journey, ripping her to shreds, fleeing her broken...everytime. She was aware the effect of Cosette's departure would have on Marius, but surely it was better to selflessly give him hope? However, there was the possibility, he would zealously become obsessed with Cosette's absence and wither away into the year only imagining of her scent and not of his own life. What if he left Paris for his cher? Blessed are the forgetful: for they get the better. If he left Eponine to herself, the decrepit atmosphere of the Slums and the depravity that was moons and gold candles fixed in heaven's air would corrupt her to the core, leaving her a hollow shell. Could she be selfish? Fear absolutely, she had been challenged soon. Enjolras had emerged from the backroom, and sat quietly at his table, voraciously reading his studies on politics, to refresh his knowledge, however, truly because he feared how the situation would unmask. He had to be prepared for Eponine's impulsive enterprises of great pith. She was capable of all that can be contemplated today. Marvellous deeds, as well as sins. Her angel entered the threshold. He lucidly appeared puzzled.

"I just went to Rue Plumet but it was shut. Are Cosette and Valjean visiting the city?" He sat across from Eponine, not a worry in the world, unaware of the fate that waited him. Eponine wanted to run, and fast.

"They are visiting a city." She felt the letter dig into her right breast, scarring her deep.

"What do you mean?" His innocent eyes bore into hers, his lips tugging on a smile, so naïve, and so precious. Eponine took his hands, and braced herself, only wanting to hold him close and whisper benevolent compliments in his ear. He was in danger of fainting from exhaustion; none the less because he only allowed Cosette to do that.

"Marius. Cosette is gone. She left for London." Enjolras felt the knife strike through the air. There was an inhale of breath from Marius, as his lips turned pale blue, his eyes shallow and cold.

"She can't have."

"She did. I am so sorry, Marius." Eponine went to hold him, only for him to pull out her reach, he removed his hands from hers, pacing through the room, his breath became ragged his hands would not stop shaking, Eponine watched as his chest heaved. He left with no word. _What have I done?_ The two, Enjolras and Eponine heard the metal clang as Marius kicked his car in despair and frustration. Eponine intensely desired to take a bottle and beat her with it. Her selfish motives had destroyed Marius_. Why do I always do that to the people I love?_

"Why did you do that?" Enjolras' voice was weary but his eyes thundered the colour of a stormy sky. Eponine mightily stood still, she did absolutely know. She distinctly had acted selfish, and without consideration of Marius' psychological horizon. Nevertheless, she was used to discovering solutions to disastrous situations.

"Cosette…Cosette would hurt him. This is good for him." She turned to leave, fleeing in fear of his judgement, her emotions were raw at this moment, and any righteous words from Eponine would break her. She needed to collect herself, and shut her conscience away. Enjolras did not let her go without an explanation, as he made a hasty, bold move to grab her elbow, pulling her back to face him. Eponine jumped at the ferocity in his eyes, She was confused, he had been the one to complain about Marius' infatuation, how could he feel she was in the wrong? She had gallantly aided him towards his cause. Or so she convinced herself. "Enjolras, let go of me." He did willingly, but his glare fastened her to the spot. Well, if he's going to judge me, I might as well go with a fight. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Do you realise the damage you're causing?"

"Why do you care? You shouldn't, Marius will focus less on Cosette, and focus on politics, your party's politics. It will benefit all of us."

"My god, Eponine!" He face palmed. What had happened to the intelligent woman who had sat there at their table for hours discussing strategies to help their party? Being the rational thinker, finding alternative solutions their issues. The one who had helped them survive this battle? "What is wrong with you today? Marius does not care for you. Not romantically, anyway! He has known you for a year, and trust me, if he saw you as a potential love interest; he would have fallen in love with you. How long has he known Cosette? One month. How long after did he date her? A few days. You mean nothing to him!"

There was a thunderous noise that echoed throughout the room. She had not known what had caused her to execute such a thing, but she unquestionably would not apologize. The stinging red imprint of Eponine's fingered palm was scarred on Enjolras' right cheek.

"Don't you dare," Eponine seethed, her eyes darker shades of rage. Enjolras stood back slightly, as he suspiciously watched her other hand twitch. "You think you're so righteous, Enjolras. That you are above and beyond of everyone, that you know everything."

"I-"

"I'M TALKING!"

Enjolras let her continue.

"I have no idea what gave you the idea that you could judge my actions, but rest assured, Monsieur Enjolras, Marius Pontmercy has and always will mean everything to me. Just as I do to him, you don't know anything of our friendship; you don't know anything of me. I see the way you look at me, like you can fix me. You can't, and I won't let you." She gave a bitter laugh. "You told me all those weeks ago, that you don't understand the fuss, and that's it. That's the entire point. You don't understand."

It does not truly require to be assuredly declared that after that night, the two avoided each other. Until one common cause generously brought them together again.

* * *

_**There's something about this chapter that I don't like, but I can't put my finger on it. It's scary trying to write Enjolras and Eponine because I want to characterize them properly. Which I hope I'm doing? If not, please let me know, I really like constructive criticism it helps me improve. So don't be shy! Please review :D x**_


	10. Everything Rides On Tonight

He hadn't touched the food, or the water, or spoke. His eyes fixated on the volume in his hands, the shades under his eyes the colour of bruises. Enjolras was in better health than Marius, and that was a universal phenomenon. He had been active in the functions of the party; but, his mind was elsewhere. It need not zealously be stated where. Courfeyrac distinctly had decided to take him to a Comedy Night, to entertain him, but he comfortably sat there with a blank face, not even Joly's delicious meals generously brought him joy. There were moments where he would eloquently articulate manically, that his friends would have no choice, but to sit there slightly petrified, but he would become stupefied at the sight of blond. Hoping, always hoping. He locked himself in his office in solitude, only emerging when summoned; even then he would make haste to flee immediately. Bossuet, distinctly having had enough of his behaviour, chose to stage an intervention, he was already in a foul mood; an ungainly fowl had let itself go on him. Returning to the headquarters, before Marius had the opportunity to isolate himself, Bossuet grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him into the main office of Enjolras. The others so shocked by this sudden change, followed to see what Bossuet's intentions were. Marius was pushed on the sofa with no struggle, his limps lifeless.

"Marius, wake up!" Bossuet slapped the cheeks of Marius several times; he only received a weak smile from the simpleton.

"I am wake up, Bossuet. I must get to work." Marius stood to leave, but was prevented as Bahorel barred the door with his body, he knew too well to not fight against Bahorel, his strength no match for his. "What do you all want?"

"We want you to be alive again, Marius." Courfeyrac bluntly stated, he cared for his best friend, but this lifeless body in front of him was not him. And it was frankly grinding him to his last nerve, just as the others were.

"I am alive." He weakly laughed. "Now, if you will excuse me." He moved towards the door, glaring at Bahorel. Seeing this intervention was futile, Bahorel stepped aside to let Marius leave. Combeferre narrowed his eyes at the sound of his laughter; it was throaty laugh, an unhealthy laugh. The widening of Joly's eyes confirmed his suspicions, his health was deteriorating. With the absence of Marius, Courfeyrac finally released the exhausted groan he had been upholding.

"We have to help him." Grantaire's jaw was tightened, gazing at Enjolras for confirmation. Enjolras was divided, he wanted to rejoice at Marius' excellent efficiency at work, but the absentminded – no, hollow, mask was nerving him. Enjolras cared for the cause, but was it worth achieving when his friend was dying inside? Enjolras nodded stiffly, knowing perfectly well who could assist him.

"Eponine." Combeferre whispered quietly. She had not spoken to any of them recently, when they entered the bar, she would disappear for the remainder of the evening. He had not missed the avoiding glance of Enjolras when she was in their company. "She can get through to him. We need to speak to her."

"Well, first of all, let's get the work done. Then, we shall discuss Marius." Enjolras declared, the others agreed, leaving quickly, wanting to flee the awkwardness tension in the room. They did not know what had happened, but were aware that Eponine was a sensitive topic for Enjolras. Grantaire remained. "You can speak to her, Grantaire." Enjolras picked up a book, to look busy. Grantaire smirked, cutting right through his façade.

"No, I think you should. You provoke her more; she might get defensive and want to prove you wrong."

"I'm not the best person to speak to her at the moment." Grantaire was fully aware of that, it had happened on the night Cosette had left. Late at night, when they were in Enjolras' apartment, waiting for him to return so they could conclude the day of work. Enjolras had stormed in, banging his door shut and did not emerge for the remainder of the night. He had gone to the bar the next morning, to only find Eponine scowling to herself, cursing an unknown person under her breath. He did not catch the name, but heard the repetition of "self-righteous, pompous, politician." It did not take long for Grantaire to deduce her object of profanities.

"What the hell happened that night? What did you do?" Enjolras stiffened; he knew he could not uphold the façade. Combeferre had already questioned him, and the way his friends were acting around him demonstrated that they had calculated it also.

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"Well, I heard her mutter "self-righteous, pompous, politician." So it's not hard to guess." Had Enjolras been on better relations with Eponine, he would have smiled, perhaps even chuckled at her feisty persona. Alas, he was not, so his anger towards her deepened.

"I am not pompous."

"Debatable." Grantaire teased, but saw it not wise as Enjolras grimace transformed into a scowl. "Just fix it with her."

"Yes. Do." Feuilly entered unexpectedly, feeling a sense of duty for his friends, he was ready to drag Enjolras to the bar to get him to apologize and reconcile with Eponine. He loved Enjolras a brother, but dear Lord, he was frustrating. "We need her help, Enjolras. Swallow your pride and fix this."

"We don't need her." It irked him that his friends had such lack of faith in themselves and were so dependent on a woman who they had only known for a month or so. Enjolras was wrong; they had known her longer than that, each one of them had seen her demeanour. No, they did not need her, but they would be amazing with her by their side.

"We have dropped in the opinion polls; the opposite party had gotten more financial support for their campaign. Have you seen Beauvais on the television? The people are certainly stirring, but for the wrong party. Eponine is our ticket, go fix this." Feuilly pressed on, Grantaire could sense Enjolras considering his proposition, and they were so close.

"I'll go with you, Enjolras." Grantaire offered. "Two is better than one."

Several minutes passed, Feuilly and Grantaire stood there with bated breath. Enjolras nodded.

* * *

They found her nearly slumped upon the bar counter, one eyes closed as her mind numbed, her hands clutching onto a bottle of alcohol possessively. Enjolras cursed, and moved to take the bottle out of her grasp, she pulled away with alert.

"Va te faire foutre, you pompous jerk." She burped without hesitation, Grantaire dismayed at the sight of her swaying, her eyes bloodshot, and her lips purple. Enjolras frowned in worry. He felt Grantaire lead him away from her so she could not hear their conversation; he doubted she would register their words if they screamed at her.

"Be easy on her, she's drunk. And, when she's drunk, she's an angry drunk." Grantaire looked weary, realization finally dawning upon him. _He _looked that way week ago, had it not been for her, or Enjolras, he would have stayed that way, or worse. He felt a duty, to repay her for her kindness. She wasn't alone, despite her delusion.

"She's always angry!" Enjolras argued.

Grantaire scoffed. "You can talk (!)" Enjolras narrowed his eyes at his jester, but submitted. Arguing with her would not work, he was here for Marius. Or so he tried to convince himself. Returning to the bar counter, he slid in the seat in front of her, Grantaire beside him. She grinned unkindly, Enjolras had to stop himself from wiping her lip with his red handkerchief, she had cut her upper lip in the sharp lid of the bottle, her alcohol numbness had dulled her senses that she had not noticed. Not that she would have cared about the pain.

"How long have you been drinking?" Grantaire stayed silent, willing to observe Enjolras' handling of the situation, ready to save him from angering her further.

"Since this morning. You should try it. It's fun!" She slid a glass towards him, the alcohol spilling everywhere as she clumsily handled the bottles. It had splashed upon his best suit, but he could not care less. Eponine's carelessness was worrying him too much to care.

"I won't. But, I'm not here to talk to you about your drinking habits."

"No…you're here to lecture me." Eponine stumbled up; Grantaire pushed her down onto her seat before she fell.

"No I'm not, because every "lecture" ends in a fight. Except yesterday ended with a slap."

"You deserved it."

"Debatable."

"Not really." Grantaire inserted, wanting to add humour to the situation, the air was thickening with tension. A warning glare from Enjolras silenced him.

"No, you did." Eponine stood again, pushing Grantaire's hands way with force, an animal-like growl escaped from her lips. She was practically snarling. Who was this girl? This was the darker Eponine that the boys had never encountered before; did they really believe her to not have a secret side? She was a rose in the wild. Surrounded by corruption, a rose does not always stay sweet. It has thorns.

"Did Marius deserve his pain?" Enjolras lifted his eyes to her, his scowl mirroring hers. The man's name stopped her in her escape. As he knew it would. Her eyes flashed with rage as her face came closer, nearly crashing upon him headfirst. She growled and clutched his collar.

"Don't you dare."

_Oh no you don't. _Enjolras clutched her hands and pushed them away from his neck area, but held on. Grantaire watched on, feeling like an outsider, the two seemed to be completely absorbed in each other's presence.

"No, Eponine. I will dare. Do you know what's happened? Marius hasn't slept, he hasn't eaten, and he hasn't drunk. He works, and works, and works, I want him to be devoted to the cause, but _not_, when it is costing him his health!" He hadn't let go of her hands. Eponine looked stricken.

"You're lying." Her hands clenched in his, her anger at him coming out in force. Grantaire watched as their hands tightened around each other's. _What the hell are these two doing?_

"Have you seen him lately?" Grantaire questioned her, finally breaking the seal that had separated him from the two, like a glass wall smashing to the ground in infinite pieces. Enjolras released her hands.

"No…" Eponine's voice came out in a whisper. News of Marius had sobered her and brought her senses into full force. She felt the pain, the pain of the cut lip, the pain of the headache, but most of all, the pain of the heart.

"And did you think that once Cosette was gone, he would devote his time to you?" Grantaire stood in front of her now, Enjolras happy to stand aside and let his friend take control.

"I hoped…" Eponine sounded fractured.

"Eponine, you have to tell him." In contrast to hers, Enjolras' voice was powerful and strong, but it was not devoid of compassion and sympathy. Her eyes snapped to his, as though she had finally seen him for the first time, her vision was cleared. Her shoulders sagged.

"Don't you see?" Her voice grew hoarser, but her tears flew greater. "It's too late, Enjolras. What could I tell him? Tell me what I could say that would fix this!" They could not. "Exactly. When I told you that you couldn't fix me. I meant it, so stop please." Her eyes connected with Grantaire's. He could barely see hers, the tears were too strong. "I am a lost cause, I am fucked up, and Marius will…he will get better. Which is not what you can say for people like me. I'm sorry." She fled, leaving Enjolras and Grantaire alone in the abandoned bar

No-one spoke. Then Enjolras heard Grantaire exhale in exhaustion, the man craved sleep. Enjolras craved peace. Grantaire patted him on the back, turning to leave the room.

* * *

"We tried, I guess."

Enjolras shook his head furiously. "She'll change her mind, as much as it frustrates us, she cares for Marius, and she'll give him the letter." Grantaire smiled at his confidence in her, a little smug smile.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because she's wrong. There's no such thing as a lost cause."

* * *

Sitting against her front door, Eponine sobbed. She wanted to stop, she wanted stop crying so badly. But, have you ever felt your heart in your chest, heavy with a sadness that cannot be described? You keep smiling, you keep living, but that sadness taunts you, until it breaks you. In her little pocket was an item that burned her. She retrieved the letter. The rain had sodden it, but the handwriting was still beautiful, she read it. She could not do this. She could not deny Marius happiness, he had not deserved it. He had lived an innocent life, he deserved love. If he would not want Eponine, he deserved Cosette. There was no-one else in the world for them. She clenched her jaw, her head straight, ferocity and determination in her eyes.

"I may be fucked up, but not Marius. I won't let Marius suffer."

Next day, she would do it. Even if it cost their friendship, she would give him his happiness.

* * *

**_Va te faire foutre = Fuck off._**

**_Reviews, constructive criticism etc, are all welcome :) _**


	11. Save Yourselves

When Paris deeply slumbered, it slept peacefully, but there were restless souls. Eponine distinctly had not slept at all, the anxiety of what was to trail the day after was troubling to her, Enjolras did not sleep either. The stress of the politics was taking a toll, and Marius did not sleep. He missed his other heart. They all had support, but they were lonely. However, to convince people such as Eponine and Enjolras that was the case unquestionably would prove impossible. The next hour of awakening, they all awaited results, they had received a phone call from Eponine trailing the morning that Marius was to join her at the bar later that ebbing day, it did not take long to realise what affairs for. Grantaire had visited her previously to reassure her that this was the right action to take, Eponine had zealously agreed, but not that it was the best action. The city was stirring, with errant knaves committing sins, honest people being corrupted, would Paris be saved? Perhaps, but at first, the group to save Paris, must save themselves.

* * *

It did not take all that much effort to tempt Marius to the bar, and to assuredly declare temptation is a lie, Bahorel had simply hoisted him over his shoulder and painstakingly hauled him to the taxi, despite his protests, Courfeyrac and Combeferre had sat tightly by his side to prevent him from manically trying to escape. Enjolras sat in the passenger side, with a cold glance. He felt conflicted, he had not previously, taken part in affairs of other fellow-being's live, it was strange, but he had urgency within that him to help Marius.

They had arrived at the bar, it looked shabbier in daylight. The title above the doorway was rusted, the stench of alcohol could be sensed from within the closed car, there were drunken men outside, but no-one entered. They presumed that Eponine had given them a death glare to leave the premises so the events of tonight could take place.

When they entered, it was an obscure and lonely nod from Eponine was the signal that she was ready, the others left, but it was Jehan that had remained. He had little to do tonight, and wanted to assist in any way he could. Enjolras remained as well, he could not motivate himself to leave them be. Marius comfortably sat in front of Eponine, staring blankly at her, he had been confused as to why they had driven across the buzzing city for a breaking bar in the Slums, but after the reticent silence received by his friends, and he had ceased to care. Eponine was shaking, she had to settle the glasses down to calm herself, and Jehan gave her a tentative smile behind the right shoulder of Jehan, indicating that he and Enjolras were here for her. Out of all to stay, she had not wished it for be Enjolras, she deeply felt exposed, with him aware of what she was to do, with him aware of her mixed introspective opinions about the situation, she felt he knew her true nature. As well as you all know, Eponine despised being readable to others.

"Marius…" Eponine commenced, unsettled by the sharp click movement of his head towards her, as well as his vacant gaze. Marius was completely still; his chest not rapidly moving as though he was not breathing, Eponine was convinced had gone into a comatose state, However, an encouraging nod from Enjolras urged her onwards "I need to tell you something-"

"Eponine?" A soft voice called from behind them. Eponine felt her knees buckle, Marius exclaimed, Enjolras cursed, and Jehan froze. There stood Cosette, with her floral dress, and her pretty ribbons, the sunlight in her eyes, and her rosy smile. She; a thing of light, of airiness and joy; Unaware of the terror that was to be brought on.

"Cosette…?" Marius stood in slow motion, as though if he looked too long at his lover, she would vanish. Cosette advanced, but he moved swiftly away, whispering to himself. "No, you're not there. You're not there. You're not." Eponine held his hands in dismay; she knew this was a lost battle. "Marius, it's her." She gently confirmed, her heart breaking as the innocent twinkle in his eyes emerged, they had been cold and empty all these weeks. Then, Marius' expression changed into unpredictability, his jaw clenched, his eyes cooled in iciness. He turned to Cosette, regarding her in an almost unsatisfied light.

"What are you doing here?" Marius coldly questioned. Enjolras moved behind the two lovers, latching Eponine's arm, he pulled her out of the middle.

"I came to see you." Cosette was confused, as was expected, she no idea of the contempt Marius had felt for her, but mostly because he had yearned for her. "Papa and I had to travel back to Paris; there was confusion with the lawsuit, to which my Papa has to solve at his office in the city."

"How could you show your face so casually?" Marius' voice cracked. "We need to get you out of here." Enjolras whispered closely, Jehan joined them at the back.

"I can't." Eponine shook her head stubbornly, she had caused his problem, and she had to solve it. _She would come at the worst time._ "I can't run, Enjolras. I caused this, I need to fix it. I need…to give them peace."

"I don't understand, Marius! I told you I was returning!" The sorrowful voice of Cosette could be heard. Eponine started shaking, she knew what was coming.

"Are you sure?" Enjolras whispered, his eyes had taken a different light, he was worried. Jehan patted Eponine's shoulder in reassurance, proud of her. Eponine nodded, her shoulder straightened, she had faced drunken thieves before, and one man was no difficulty for her.

"How?!" Marius' voice boomed.

"In the letter I gave to Eponine!" Cosette shrieked. Shit. The three waited, hesitant to be the first to enter the room. Eponine was beginning to reconsider Enjolras' offer to flee. She did not have the opportunity to, however.

"Eponine? I know you're there." Marius called, his voice was quiet, shocked almost. Eponine gave the two panicked looks before leaving, Jehan followed quickly, leaving Enjolras in his conflicted state. He was still arguing with himself to whether stay or leave. "What is she talking about?" Marius had a facial expression, which was unreadable. It lucidly appeared that Eponine and he were the only ones in the gloomy bar, the world grayed out. Perhaps that would have been romantic, had it not been the conditions they had found themselves in. Eponine wordlessly handed him the creased letter, sodden from the mists tears, it still smelt of lavender. She watched as Marius' eyes widened whilst scanning the lettering, Cosette regarded Eponine with scrutinizing luminous eyes.

"Why?" That was all he asked. Before she had made her way down to the bar, she had a speech planned, with her excuses, with her emotions pouring, but now, she could not answer. How could she tell him? How could she ruin what they had, by telling him that in her mind she had been wishing for there to be a solution where they could be together? When, in reality, they could not? Marius would have never understood her past; it would take a visionary to accurately fathom. "Did you want to cause me pain?" Marius' voice was increasing in volume, no longer hoarse, no longer broken. The zombie-like man they had dealt with in the past week, no longer present.

"No!"

"Don't talk to me, just…don't." Marius threw the letter on the floor, grabbed Cosette's hand and left. She may have been able to deal with the situation, had it not been for Cosette's compassionate gaze, and Marius' abrupt departure. Eponine only did one thing, gave Enjolras a glare that radiated _"I told you so"._

* * *

"Marius, wait!" Cosette halted, taking her hand out of his grasp; Eponine's intentions had been troubling her. She had seen the tears in Eponine's eyes, how could she have been so blind? Eponine loved her Marius; she had done it because she had felt fate smiling down upon her, telling her "it's your turn now." to only have happiness ripped from her hands. "I have to talk to her."

"What? Cosette, she tried to ruin us." Cosette rolled her eyes at the dramatics.

"With possible good reason. Don't be melodramatic, my love, we could not be ruined. But, I do want to see her." She did not imperturbably wait for a reply, but retreated inside to speak to Eponine, Marius sighed, but was slightly impressed at how his love was willing to reconcile with a dame she barely know. He followed suit, but to only find Cosette was not in the main area of the bar, instead there was Enjolras and Jehan.

"Sit." Enjolras commanded.

* * *

Cosette found her heaving, gripping to the crates with all the strength she had. She was trying so hard, to not cry. _He's not worth it, he's not…but he is._ When she saw the angel mightily standing in the doorway, she laughed bitterly. "You are the last person I need to see right now."

"I don't blame you."

"No, don't. Fucking don't. I don't deserve pity." She cracked. "Shout at me! Tell me how disgusting I am. Tell me!" She grabbed Cosette's shoulders, and shook. "Stop thinking I'm different because I'm not. I am an idiot, and I will ruin everything. Why does no-one see that?" She broke. Collapsing, she crumbled to the ground, her hand shielding her face from Cosette's view; the tears flew, flew and flew. She hadn't expected Cosette to embrace her.

"You know, as much as I love Marius, he is blind. He didn't see that you loved him all this time. You're only human, Eponine, you make mistakes. But, you deserve second chances. Don't deny it, you do. I can tell you were going to tell him, had I not came, it might have been easier, but you know what? Thank you."

"For what?" Eponine pulled out of Cosette's embrace.

"Making the decision to tell him even though you knew his reaction wouldn't be well." Eponine's frown transformed into a gleam of relief, her eyes brightened and her tears quickly ceased. Cosette gallantly aided her up, brushing the ground dust off her hips, and took the crate from her. Eponine held herself back from the look of shock at Cosette's strength. Lives of these young adults never stays blissful, it was one voice that made Eponine freeze.

"Hello, Eponi'". The beautiful scoundrel. His lips were still red as cherries, his charming black locks, with the glow of spring in his eyes. All the characters that had Eponine mesmerized in her summers with him.

"'Parnasse."


	12. Havens and Hells

_**Review responses: Weeell - Love the name! Your review came at a perfect timing, it made em so happy. I am so glad that you have the courage to stand up for injustice, sign up for Amnesty and Avaaz, UNICEF etc, and constantly sign petitions It's incredible how much an email address can change things. And it's not weird at all about the fanfic of a fanfic, what would call that? Fanception? ;) 3**_

_**Sarah - I hope you like the reconcilliation, and as always your reviews are a great help :) **_

_**Enjoy, everyone! x**_

* * *

"Why are you yelling at me so much?!"

"Because, Marius you didn't even give her a chance to answer for herself." Enjolras he was pacing, his flaxen curls array, his neck tie loose, his shirt crumpled as Inexorable rage radiated from him. Jehan comfortably sat patiently, watching the exchange.

"Why should I? She tried to ruin Cosette and me!" Marius retorted.

"Oh, for fucks sake." Jehan banged his head against the table.

"She's a human being, Marius! Enjolras inched his head closer to Marius, almost snarling. "She'll make mistakes, but that doesn't mean that she can't be listened to." Marius was severely confused at the evidence of passion in Enjolras' voice; they barely knew each other, so why was he so bothered? He did not hesitate to challenging him upon this.

"You barely know her, so why do you care?!" That silenced Enjolras momentarily, but he calmly replied, stunning Marius with his cool tone.

"Because she's a person. She matters."

"She doesn't owe me anything." Marius' voice was cold; his eyes narrow, setting Enjolras as an equal. Enjolras fumed, but a bloodcurdling scream interrupted their argument.

"EPONINE!" The men ran as fast as possible, to find Eponine struggling under the heavy weight of a muscular man, his knee cutting deep inside her ribcage, Jehan almost vomited at the sound of the horrifying crack. She was scratching at his eyes, screaming profanities. All men acted. Jehan flew at the man, pinning him to the ground, punching him clean in his jaw, making it shudder with a crack, Marius ran to Cosette and helped her to her feet, and Enjolras rescued Eponine. She cried out in pain as her rib caved in.

"Eponine, can you move?" He brushed away her black locks, wincing at her terrified eyes.

"No, oh crap, it hurts so much." She collapsed to the ground in defeat. Enjolras placed his hands underneath the body of her slumbering soul and lifted her in his arms, she wheezed in pain, but did not complain. "Jehan, stop!" She screeched at the sight of the poet beating in the sides of Montparnasse. With a rough fingered palm, he cuffed Montparnasse around the collar and lifted that dastardly vagabond scruffily. Growling, he pulled the criminal towards him.

"You touch her again, and I will ram this notebook down your throat." His voice was tight, and dangerously low. Montparnasse smirked.

"Well, Eponi', look at you with your bodyguards." His voice was as smooth as silver, Enjolras' grip around Eponine tightened at the possessive glare in Montparnasse's luminous eyes. Eponine was immune to that smirk now, after witnessing the horrific murders he had committed, she had spit in his canvas of endurance, and left him an insulted mess on the street corner. He would have discovered her sooner or later, but she was no longer the naïve girl he employed as a toy, she was a woman.

"Leave it, 'Parnasse. You leave now, and these boys won't trouble you." The "boys" were not in agreement with her as they regarded her with shock. Enjolras slightly disappointed at her caving under Montparnasse's intimidation so easily.

"You know…" Montparnasse drawled. "I should pay your brother a visit, I am sure he hasn't got a bodyguard?"

"You…BASTARD!" Eponine leapt out of Enjolras' protective arms and advanced towards Montparnasse, to only fall as the pain of her ribs zealously became too much. In humiliation, she beat the ground. Jehan pushed Montparnasse away, regrettably giving him the cue to flee. Cosette leant down to Eponine and helped her to her feet, Enjolras watched as the slender body of Eponine swayed, to only catch her in his arms in time before she contacted with the hard concrete ground.

"Right, where to next?" Jehan asked as he massaged his bloody, bruised knuckles.

"To mine, it's the closest place here." Under the starry night of the Slums, the five travelled to the apartment lighting the corruption and decay, the same place that was to be Eponine's sanctuary.

* * *

She was light as a feather, her bones were rustic, her hair was raggy, but she slept peacefully. As Enjolras entered his azure living room, she did not stir, slightly tightening her arm around her waist as she was comfortable for the inaugural time in weeks. Enjolras' apartment was bare compared to his friends, inside was a kitchen barely used, the living room was full of coffee stains and pages of old volumes, ink splotches on the tables as decoration, there was a single bedroom that was his, but the bed was not deeply slumbered in, if Enjolras slept, he would be hunched over his dining table with a speech stuck to his cheek. He laid her carefully on the sofa in his living room, pausing as she tugged him towards her. Jehan came to his rescue from an awkward scenario as he unlatched her arm from around Enjolras' waist. Marius had already notified for Joly's presence immediately. Cosette lifted Eponine's uniform shirt in privacy, Enjolras respectfully looked away, and heard a gasp as she examined the bloody, purple bruise that stretched from Eponine's chest to the inward line of her hip bones. Joly, frantically came instantaneously, equipped with his medical kit, the others arrived soon later. They all waited anxiously in the kitchen for Joly's verdict. He returned to them with a grave expression.

"Cracked rib, will take about three weeks to heal at most. She won't be able to move, she'll have to stay here." Enjolras feared as much.

"You know she won't."

"She has to." Joly's ever happy expression was not there; instead he was stern and commanding, wanting to hurt the culprit who had committed such an assault.

"How did this happen?" Combeferre asked the important question. They turned to Cosette, who was sitting at the dining table, trembling and clutching a glass of water. Combeferre intensely desired to hit himself, they had been so immersed in Eponine's condition, and they had forgotten to treat the other victim in shock

Cosette…" She startled at Combeferre's presence in front of her. He selflessly gave her his crooked, wise smile.

"Can you tell me what happened…?" Cosette nodded, with a trembling hand, she brushed away the falling tears.

"She saved my life."

* * *

_I was helping her with the crates when this man appeared. She seemed to recognize him, oh, she looked so scared, but she was brave enough to confront him. _

"'_Parnasse." She said, I noticed, she protectively stood in front of me, shielding me from him. He was giving me leering looks; I did not like him at all, Combeferre! _

"_It's been a while." He made his way forward to her, but she stepped away, not wanting him to touch her. He smirked and stayed at his distance, but he kept eyeing my purse, I think she realised he was doing it also. In one swift movement, he lurched at me, she screamed for me to run and pushed me away, pushing him to the ground, she punched him, over, and over. Oh, god, Combeferre, she was crying, and screaming at him, she was so powerful. I pulled her off him before she could do more damage. She kept yelling at me to run and get you all, but I couldn't! I couldn't leave her with him. When she was too busy trying to convince me to leave, he grabbed her and pushed her aside, then he went for me. She hit him from behind, but he had his strength once again, and struck her down with his backhand, and that's when I screamed and you came to help us. I thought she was going to die… It's my entire fault._

* * *

When Eponine awoke from her peaceful slumber, she discovered herself enveloped in comforting embrace of blankets, she deeply felt truly at tranquillity. It was a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things; it was only when she rose her body, with the shooting pain in her side, making her scream with agony, did her holy globe of euphoria voraciously come crashing down. Powerful arms pushed her down by her shoulders, her eyes widened at the sight of Enjolras' frown boring down upon her. Taking the natural defensive stance she slapped him away.

"Ow! Eponine! Stop slapping me!" Enjolras whined slightly, as he rubbed at the stinging sensation of Eponine's red handprint upon his right cheekbone. Eponine grabbed her inaugural object in sight. A large vase, and flung it at his head, there was no way in hell he would take advantage of her. She heard a loud exclamation of multiple voices in the next room, before she could blink, there were several faces staring in shock at her, except for Grantaire, who looked simply exasperated.

"Oh my-"

"Eponine, are you-"

"Enjolras, what did you do-"

Let her rest!" Joly's voice boomed from behind them, with his cups of medicine in his hand, and tiresome bags under his eyes, he pushed through the crowd, giving Eponine her dosages needed to heal. "Right now, Eponine is in pain, and she's only slept for a few hours, let her be Eponine did not speak, but her smile was a grateful one. He imperturbably waited until the rest shuffled off, Enjolras remaining momentarily until a throaty cough from Combeferre indicated to him, that his presence was not required.

"What the hell happened to me?"

"Montparnasse happened to you." The everlasting pleasurable joy in Joly's voice was no longer there. Flashes on Montparnasse's leering grin came to Eponine, the blows of his punches, the digging into the core of her ribs made her convulse. Seeing this, Joly draped another blanket around her, rubbing her shoulders in massaging gestures. He found me.

"Does he know where I am?" Eponine's voice was fractured, trembling even through the bliss of Joly's warmth.

"Non. You need three weeks rest at least, but um…I'd like for you to stay here." Joly braced for impact.

"And where's here…?" Eponine inquired, no fool could miss the suspicion in her eyes.

"Enjolras'-"

"Non."

"Just here me out?"

"Non."

"Epon-"

"Non means non, Joly! I am not staying here, not with that pompous, good-for-nothing politician!" She heard a chuckle from behind her; the sound of honey melted in sugar, no man had a greater laughter. Marius was stood there, his eyes lightened in humour, his cheeks full with rosy colour, his lips moistened in a gleam, he looked so alive. She knew the reason for.

"Joly, may I have a moment with Eponine?" Joly sped like lightning out of that room. She felt the awkwardness ensue, as Marius comfortably sat beside her, slightly insulted at how easy his attitude was being, perhaps in another light, she would yearn for his company, but with the throbbing veins and the drumming in the ears, she desired nothing more than for Marius Pontmercy to leave. "Hello." His voice was tender.

"Bonjour, Monsieur." Her voice was not.

"Are you angry at me?"

"Well let's see, I was attacked by a criminal, whilst protecting your girlfriend who I owe nothing to, and you know what is hilarious, Marius?" She laughed bitterly, wearing a gleam of madness. "If you had listened to my side of the story, then I wouldn't have gone out to the back of the bar, Cosette wouldn't have followed at me." Her voice was increasing in volume. "AND NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED. SO, YES I AM ANGRY WITH YOU, MARIUS!" She was shaking horrifically, expecting Marius to scream in retaliation, but he…just, nodded.

"I should have listened, and I am sorry. I spoke to Cosette, and Enjolras. "He elaborated further after watching Eponine's expression turn to confusion at hearing Enjolras' name. "Why didn't you tell me you didn't give me the letter to protect me? If I had known you hadn't given it to me in favour of my wellbeing, then I would not have acted so horribly." He took her hands in his, in friendship and unity. "I will keep you safe, and I will keep you close. I am so sorry for how I have been treating you." Eponine's heart broke at his sincerity; this is what she distinctly had been waiting for all this time, for him to recognise all she had done for him. To know that she truly mattered to him, Cosette could have him as hers, as long as Marius was not desperately lost.

"I am so sorry for putting you through that pain; I shouldn't have kept the letter from you." Her voice was cracking, her cheeks sodden with tears, and Marius held her in his arms as she sobbed against his shoulders.

"My suffering means nothing compared to yours, your life is cold and dark, and yet you're unafraid. I have the utmost respect for you..." Using his thumb, he cleaned away the tears, readying himself for his next proposition.

"Now about you staying here…"

"Non." "Eponine. Listen. You are severely injured, it's a wonder that you're still breathing! Enjolras is barely ever home, and the majority of the time it'll be either me or Grantaire visiting you. I mean, it's a nice place!" The two best friends chuckled, it was a beautiful apartment, and she could not deny the lead revolutionary that truth. "He's a good man; he'll be kind to you. After all, after hearing him defend you, I think you should give him a second chance."

"I don't owe him anything. But, for three weeks, I will stay here, but if I strangle him prior to these three weeks, it is not my responsibility." Marius held his hands in mock-surrender, Grantaire had been correct; these two were a curiously tantalizing match. It may zealously be believed to Eponine that owed him nothing, but despite her greatest efforts, her emotions ruled her, and her rationality prevented her from foreseeing possible consequences. Perhaps she did not owe him now, but she would soon learn of the great sacrifices they would make for one another.

* * *

To her relief, Eponine's pain subsided with the pleasurable nonsense of being in company of such witty beings. Courfeyrac had showered her with stories, and Jehan had written with her, flattering her with charm, making her deeply feel appreciated. Marius and Cosette would take moments to themselves, but not for too long, as their full attention was upon her. Joly would cook delicious meals throughout the diurnal course to numb the pain. Enjolras as well as Combeferre were present, but they were conversing privately the majority of the time, never taking an ecstatic instant to relax. She had noticed distinct, yet complimenting differences between the both. Combeferre would be gentle, whilst Enjolras would be impulsive. Combeferre calculated, whilst Enjolras attacked. Yet, they enjoyed being around each other, never clashing. She had not been dreading to be alone with him, but to be left without assistance was not her desire either. He had been courteous, directing her towards the systematic organisation of the apartment, distant, not willing to provoke her. It had surprised her greatly, at how little she wished to be treated as acquaintance by him. It took great strength not to shake him by the shoulders, demanding a true emotion when addressing her instead of the dull eyes he regarded her with. The tender topic had approached, which gave her the opportunity to confront him.

"And this is where you will stay for the rest of the time." He pointed towards the only bedroom in the apartment; a beautiful room decorated with mahogany, and not surprisingly, many books. He seemed loose, despite that he would be uncomfortable for the remainder three weeks for a woman who had not treated him with the utmost respect, at least that is what Eponine's viewpoint was.

"You must be joking, Enjolras! I am sleeping on the sofa." He opened his mouth to argue, but a pointed look from Eponine was an indication enough to not protest. It is universally known however, Enjolras always finds an alternative solution to predicaments.

"Well, if that's all…" Enjolras' voice trailed away into a gentler volume, glancing around the room awkwardly, Eponine was tempted to see how long he would act this way, but the deadly silence was becoming to throb her back into pain.

"Let's cut to the chase. What is happening about Montparnasse?" She watched him jump in surprise at her brashness, but he soon settled. Possibly, expecting her change of attitude.

"We discussed this for a long time, Combeferre and I. We have decided to alert Inspector Javert of Montparnasse's activities." The word inspector was a trigger enough to send Eponine into a panicked frenzy. She leapt and grabbed Enjolras by the hand, her heat was scalding.

"Enjolras, you can't!"

"Epon-"

"Enjolras, promise me, you won't. One word to the police and Parnasse's men will find out immediately. Do you really think the police will help someone like me? One word to them and you will find my dead body. I'm not exaggerating!" Enjolras watched as she began to hyperventilate, her legs trembling, she collapsed in his arms, the medicine beginning to wear off, he carried her back to the sofa.

"I promise." Satisfied, and trusting him, she relaxed into slumber. Enjolras bit his lip, watching her in peaceful tranquillity. Seeing her so vulnerable and trust him so fiercely, begging. That was not the Eponine he knew. _But, maybe, none of us truly know her._

Enjolras had slept for the first time in a fortnight, as Eponine smiled through her dreams of a better future. The two, finally at peace.

* * *

**_So, I have been in London for the past few days and went to see Les Mis at the Queens Theatre. Front row seats and Anton Zetterholm winked at me. I have no been able to breathe or think calmly since._**


	13. Another Chance

By the time Eponine had woken, Enjolras was long gone. Eponine had expected to feel the hard lump of the middle of the sofa to be digging into the core of her back, but was coincidentally met with the soft plumpness of a mattress. The sunlight radiated through window shutters, and there was a musty incense of roses of books at her side. On the bedside table was a note, neatly folded with a penmanship worthy of an artist.

_Did you really think I would leave you on the sofa? Joly will be around to check on you. _

_- Enjolras. _

"I knew you would move me, stubborn politician." Eponine muttered to herself, smiling slightly at his chivalry. The man could not be stopped at any force. Her stomach making the sensations of butterflies flying at the thoughts of his strong arms carrying her gracefully to his bed, never thinking of the horrific night he would have sleeping. _Get a grip, 'Ponine._ Deeply feeling stronger to walk, she stumbled into the front of the apartment, admiring the cleanliness of the area. Except, it was sterile, almost unlived in. The only part of the space that was alive was the bedroom, where there were papers scattered and the living room where she could behold coffee stains and ink splotches. It was very special indeed, as if it irked her how untouched the kitchen lucidly appeared. He had a beautiful view of Paris, with only a small side overseeing the Slums; she imagined waking to this every rosy dawn, to bear France at your feet. Those three weeks did not seem so daunting after all.

* * *

Whilst, Eponine relaxed in her temporary home, Enjolras was immersed into drafts as well as openings of speeches, whilst his office lithely dashed rushed to errands. The events of the previous night had halted their hours of sleep, that many were on a caffeine drive, and with those drives voraciously came agitation and frustration. It had taken many attempts from Musichetta to quickly cease Bahorel from smashing the windows. Combeferre had stopped reading, and was silently sleeping the lounge, with Courfeyrac itching to draw on him, but Enjolras had confiscated any sources of defacing.

"Anything I can help with?" Feuilly's bright voice called from the other side of the door. Enjolras called him in, weary of the little time they had to spare before they were to visit different promotional events.

"No. I'm just having a hard time finishing this speech for tonight." He rubbed at his dry eyes, yawning profusely. He had not deeply slumbered, as is obvious. The sofa had dug into his back, but he did not regret his decision to move Eponine to a more comfortable space. She had fidgeted throughout the night on that sofa, for her wellbeing, he had carried her. She had felt like a feather in his arms, cradling against his chest peacefully.

"Work tonight. You work best at night. How's Eponine?" Enjolras nearly chortled at his briskness of his questioning.

"Wow, Feuilly. I am very well too (!). I'm not sure how she is, I left early in the morning, but Joly should be there soon." There was a sensation of doubt in the pit of his stomach; she was just an ordinary person. Why was he affecting him so? Perhaps, it had been her desperation and her trust in him, the way her frightened eyes had locked with his, her gripping hand upon his arm, holding on for eternity. Reaching out, showing she did need help, and it was him she wanted help from. Enjolras, shut up. You're being delusional. _What is wrong with you lately?_ Many a man fails as an original thinker simply because his memory is too good. He had been over thinking far too greatly.

"Are you sure about having her live with you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…" Feuilly hesitated, but he was not afraid to voice his opinions to men such as, Enjolras. That was why their friendship was so strong. "You've lived on your own for so long, and with you might need adjusting to live with her. Especially since she affects you so much."

"She doesn't affect me!" Enjolras barked.

"I would have believed you, if you hadn't straightened so defensively in the first five seconds, I suggested that to you." Feuilly smirked at Enjolras' sheepish cast down eyes. He was alive with sharp wit this morning, dedicating his night to work; he had slept throughout the few hours he had peace, to only resume at the break of dawn. Courfeyrac was asleep with his coffee mug still bubbling in the machine.

"Nevertheless, I'm going to leave the teasing to Courf, I needed to speak to you about the industrialists that have been trying to contact you in the past few days." Enjolras' summery smile extinguished immediately at the mention of the industrialists. For the past few days, Enjolras had been contacted constantly by these men who had mocked his friends, and his party. Now, they had been making exceptional progress in the opinion polls and in the election campaign, they had leapt to their feet and ran on his heels. He wanted nothing more than to leave them in the dust.

"I want nothing to do with them, Feuilly."

"Enjolras-"

"No. We are not making ourselves vulnerable to them. If we invite them in our schemes, it will be not long before they return to Beauvais, leaving us empty handed. No, ignore them." He did not meet Feuilly's eyes, resuming the furious scribing of his draft. He heard the resigned sigh from Feuilly on the other side of him, and then the slowly retreating footsteps of his friend. His gut overpowering premonition was prominent, but his heart kept him in the steel cage. He instinctually knew it would not be long before Combeferre visited him, attempting to persuade him that this was the wrong course of action to take. He was not sure if he would be able to resist Combeferre's incompletely omniscient words.

_What's happened to me? Why have I become so gentle?_

* * *

When Joly had appeared, arms full of food and entertainment; she had intensely desired to leap into his arms. The solitude of Enjolras' apartment had been relaxing at the commencing, but now the silence was drumming her forgetful muse, and setting her nerves on edge. They had squandered the last hour cooking, with Joly breaking into a musical number every now and again, Grantaire had called her previously to check upon her current condition, to which she amiably confirmed that she was well, and enjoying Joly's company very much so. The culinary cloister scented with spices, and herbs, the oil sizzling in the pan, the wine rich in the old fashioned glasses. The luminiferous ether that Joly had created was so contrasting to Enjolras'. Feeling lethargic from the medication, he had agreed to sit on the living room floor, surrounded by different dishes of food, Joly would give her no opportunity to be deprived of nutrition.

"Here's a question." Eponine started. "How have we not been disturbed by hammering journalists?" Joly nodded in understanding of her curiosity.

"Oh, well, no-one knows here we live, only our friends group. Any bills or letters are posted to the headquarters and phone calls also. We all have private numbers that is only known between the ten of us."

"That's clever!"

"It is isn't it? It was Enjolras' idea."

"Okay, not so clever." Joly had been hesitant, when they had been cooking, he had watched as Eponine had glanced through Enjolras' books, subconsciously making impressed expressions as she examined his choice of readership. So, why the sudden dismissal of his nature?

"Where did this hatred towards Enjolras come from?"

"I don't hate him…" Eponine felt scrutinized under the examining glance of Joly. She calculated her justifications carefully, she was a guest in his house, and she could not insult him, at least not in front of his best friend. "He's frustrating."

"Well of course he is, he has a clear idea of how things need to be run, he's the visionary."

"Doesn't that get frustrating? To be one tracked-minded when there are so many possibilities?"

"Eponine." He assumed a serious air, the jolly man she had been previously, diminished momentarily. "Enjolras has worked hard to get an ideal set into place, just as the rest of us have. Yes, he's stubborn, beyond stubborn. But, he is a good man. He is one-tracked minded because he can't afford to let any other consequences affect the French civilians. We all can't afford for our ideals to be lost. There are so many possibilities, but Enjolras knows, as well as the rest of us, those possibilities can't happen. If you gave him a chance, you would be glad you knew him."

"What makes you so sure?" Eponine nearly barked, her consciousness had been nagging her, this message all this time. That she truly required to breathe, and see him for the man he was.

"Because, you've only really caught him at his worst moments, he doesn't concern himself with small problems, he has the weight of an entire country on his shoulders, and so do you really think he'll be truly sympathetic towards small problems? Yes, he's an idiot sometimes, and too impulsive for his own good, but he is loyal, and he'll always put his friends first. He's not the cold statue you think him to be."

_He's not the cold statue you think him to be._ Those words echoed in her mind, if there were more layers to Enjolras, would she ever behold them? "Then why does he project himself as a cold statue?"

"How else do you gain respect?"

* * *

It was the smell of a certain type of spice that Enjolras could not identify. There was a steaming mist when he entered the front of the apartment, with the sound of a sizzling pan, and the trickling of liquid, presumably, wine. To declare he was surprised at the sight of her gracefully ambling around the kitchen with no aid would be an understatement, surely. However, when he called for her attention, she was captivated into her own world, humming a melody unknown, seemingly at peace. Her daydream cost her dearly as her foot slipped from the rug and her body violently plunged backwards. With his athletic ability, Enjolras was able to catch her in his arms in appropriate timing.

"Oh, crap, you're here!" Eponine leapt out his arms, not seeing the red tint in his cheeks. He wasn't sure where this sudden flush had emerged from; he presumed it to be the smoke of the fish. He stood in stunned silence as she balanced three plates on arm and a tray of drinks on the other and moved into the living room with no trouble.

"Okay, I may be wrong, but I am certain you're injured." He blocked her passage, her adrenalized state worrying him slightly. Her eyes were feverish, manic almost.

"You seem…"

"Excited?"

"Manic. Your rib is bruised if you didn't notice." He reached out to take the plates, but she gracefully dodged him aim by ducking under his raised arm, and collapsed on the sofa, the wine unspoilt. "What sort of medication did Joly give you? Are you…high?"

"He gave me some strong painkillers, but they were rubbish, so I took another dosage."

"Eponine, you could overdose!"

"Well, you would think that. You haven't seen me handle drugs before." She mumbled under breath, though not quietly as Enjolras shot up from his seat.

"What?!"

"Nothing!" She smiled faux innocence as Enjolras' eyes narrowed in suspicion. His eyes widened at the sight of the storage on his kitchen surface, ranging from croissants to syrup, the room was packed full of sustenance. He should have known Joly would have taken such an opportunity, for make days, Joly had attempted to pressure Enjolras to feed himself, what better way to do that through Eponine? All knew that Enjolras would not have denied Eponine the best comfort within his home.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Eponine's bright voice shattered through his mesmerized thoughts, it had been a long day. The space between them was limited as she had chosen the closest sofa, which to fate's pleasure, was the smallest sofa. Enjolras had offered to sit on the floor, but Eponine's crazed manner presently had made her more hard-headed than usual, resulting in Enjolras with his arm slung around Eponine to keep her placed on the sofa, as well as the dish placed on both their knees pressed up against each other. Primarily, Enjolras had hated it, this close proximity felt inappropriate, but as the night went on, their conversations were flowing well. Neither had noticed the dishes had finished, and yet their knees were still touching, and Enjolras' arm was slung comfortably.

"So, did you do anything interesting today?" Enjolras sank against the lushness of the sofa, Eponine leaned against him instinctively. Throughout the night, Joly's words had echoed in her mind, and her approach to Enjolras had become more open, to the moment where she had wanted their conversations to not end.

"Joly had brought films, and food as you can see. He was ever adamant that I take the stock..."

"That was for me." Enjolras chuckled; his laugh was soft, with the softness of honey. Eponine could not help, but smile at the harmonious chime it held. "I work late nights, so I have no time to eat. Joly took this chance to fulfil his medical duty."

"Why do you sleep late?"

"No." He corrected her on impulse. "I don't sleep very often, I work late."

"You don't sleep? When was the last time?"

"Ooh, two weeks ago?" Eponine's jaw dropped at the casual nature he expressed on the issue. The puzzle places had fallen, which was the mystery behind his grouchiness, his robotic movements, and volatile behaviour.

"Two weeks? Two…weeks?! You haven't slept in so long and here I am keeping you up!" Enjolras began to interrupt her worried ranting; she leapt from the sofa, and pulled him to his feet, pushing him with immense force into his bedroom.

"Sleep, now! God, I can't believe I bothered you when you needed rest. I am such an idiot." She facepalmed in shame. There was a honey melody again. She turned to see Enjolras grinning and gently chuckling.

"What?"

"Nothing…well, it's just how easily you panic." His chuckling seized after seeing her frown deepen.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" She stepped towards him, whilst he took one backwards, pressing his back against the mahogany wall.

"No! Well…no." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at his excuses, but did not cause a farce. Smiling slightly to herself as her back was instantaneously turned to him and she left the room. Leaving Enjolras breathing in relief, but missing the lengthy conversations that they had throughout the night. He stayed awake to hear her snoring lightly, so he could carry her to his bed, whilst he took the chivalrous action of sleeping on the lumpy sofa. He had no idea of what she was dreaming that made her gleam of peace in her sleep a conscious slumber, at bliss with the world. Little did he know, that her parting muse before submerging to the night world of her thoughts had been, _not the cold statue I thought him to be._


	14. She Cannot Run Forever

Monsieur Thernardier had grown out of his low-vitality ways, and was living in affluence through corruption and depravity. His office was decorated with blood diamonds, and his men were robed in slick black, this was the life of a criminal mastermind. The life that beings of delight of the Slums were taught to strive towards, there were only a few men that Thernardier respected, and the most was Montparnasse, a wretched soul bruised with adversity of twenty, with an innovative mind, cultivating for the new world. Had his daughter not abandoned him in cowardice, she would have been the rightful heir to his kingdom of vice and sordid excellence. However, she had chosen the distasteful life of honesty and dedication to morality. And his young son, well, he was a nuisance that could not be saved.

The door to his main office chimed, he grunted, with the cigar in his right hand, and a glass of whisky in the next, he summoned the man to interrupt his musings. It was Montparnasse, hobbling whilst, clutching his rib, he sat across from Thernardier with no permission, and he had little respect for Thernardier, as he was his own man.

"Bar fight?" Lighting another cigar, he passed it to Montparnasse's shaking fingers, the stench of whisky made Montparnasse gag.

"Actually, outside bar, with very interesting people."

"Oh?" The intonation in Montparnasse's voice at the word "people" had stroked Thernardier's interest.

"Yes, people. Such as, your daughter."

* * *

"Damn it, work!" Enjolras' fist banged against the printer, only causing more havoc as multiple papers spilled over the floor, alongside his cup of coffee he had stupidly placed on top of the printer. "Shit!" The morning had not commenced well for Enjolras, the window shutters had opened in the night, as caused leaves to flutter through resting on the floor of his living room, the breeze had caused Enjolras to catch a fever, with his head cloudy with pain, and his eyes misty with incoherence, his mood was maddening as the day lengthened. And the pressure of the debate was dawning upon him as a black cloud of dread.

"If you attack with violence, it'll just retaliate." Eponine commented, amused at the sight of his mood swing, she had slept well, albeit, she had been carried to his bed once more, despite her protests, he always denied her wishes and deeply on the sofa.

"Good, I want it to retaliate! Why won't it work?!" More banging ensued. He had been so engrossed in beating the object of his hatred to death; he had not noticed the message on the screen. Eponine had. Pressing the black button as the message commanded, she watched in satisfaction as the printer began rattling, and the cartridges began moving along the paper. "What did you do?" Enjolras asked incredulously, looking upon as though it was a miracle, this damned object had co-operated.

"I pressed the yellow button, like the message told me to." She winked playfully as his frown deepened at hearing her smug tone. "Now, I'll make you another coffee, sit down and relax. Your pacing is giving me a headache." She waited for no response, pushing him onto a seat at the table. Her medication had been successful, and the bandaging around her ribs were tight so she could not feel the dislodging, thus being able to well around her new home. Dare she think it; she was becoming fond of the mahogany-walled apartment.

The smell of the newly-brewing coffee relaxed Enjolras' muscles momentarily, his eyes scanned over the finished speech, still not satisfied with the result of the draft. He had two hours until the debate would commence, the entirety of Paris would be watching with eager eyes. Would he deliver as he promised? His friends and colleagues thought greatly so, Lemarque had sent a note of encouragement to his phone, his faith had eased Enjolras slightly, but not enough to stop the urge to pace.

"What's troubling you?" She joined him at the table, with the cups of sustenance in hand.

"It's this speech. I'm not satisfied with it." He pushed it towards her, hoping that her experience of living in the Slums would give him a helpful insight on how to appeal to his people. After all, Enjolras had willingly chosen to live in this dreary place, but even so, his apartment was not like theirs. It still had hot water, and comfort, and most importantly, safety. He could trust that no man would barge through and hurt Eponine, although, dare they try, they would have him to answer to. He watched with interest as Eponine contemplated over his piece. He noticed how, her eyebrows would furrow only, slightly, and her lips would jut out at the bottom, her tongue poking through her teeth in deep concentration.

"You need to balance it." She interrupted his observations, and to which Enjolras was grateful for as he snapped out of his mesmerisation. He felt the hot flush the base of his neck as she peered up at him, unaware of his thoughts. "You have great passion in your speech, showing that you care. But, add statistics and opinions that will make it seem like you did your research. That you know your people, your expertise. That's something Beauvais can never master."

"Okay. Well here, when I talk about poverty." His finger went to the fourth line, accidently brushing her hand, she pulled away quickly as though he had burnt her. Enjolras did not let that nerve him. "A good statistic would be, "60% of young adults are below the poverty line." Do you mean, like that?"

Her smile was proud. Her eyes shone with a brightness of joy, she felt understood and respected. Within her element. "Exactly like that."

"Well then," He pressed a fountain pen in her hand. "Let's get to work."

* * *

"And where is she now?" Thernardier boomed. Montparnasse yawned, growing evermore tired to Thernardier's impatience.

"If I had known where she was, she would be here wouldn't she?" He idly adjusted his cigar in his right hand, his Rolex watch glistening in the radiant sunlight. "She has friends, and she is protected. She's changed, Thernardier. She is spiteful, and not willing to be charmed. And we all know how much she loved my charm. Well," his arrogantly laughed. "She loved a bit more than that."

"Hold your tongue, you bastard!" His stormy eyes reminded Montparnasse of Eponine's thunder, she would glare in the same fashion of her father, with her hands adjusted to her hips, striding in force towards her opponent. Although, Montparnasse instinctively knew, that Eponine had led astray from her past that she was no longer in roots with her father. "Was she with men?"

"Yes, three. That I recognize, but can't place. I have contacts which I'll ask for their identities."

"Three men? Could she have invested in prostitution?" There was snort from Montparnasse, with a shake of disapproval at the fancy ordering of Thernardier's speech. With more affluence, had came more prestige, he was no longer the man selling drugs on the street corner. No, Thernardier did not want the busy thoroughfares of Paris, he intensely desired the world.

"I doubt it. These were friends, definitely. The way they protected her…" His voice softened at the memory of Enjolras running to catch Eponine, there was an unspoken intimacy that Montparnasse could not name. "The way he protected her…"

"He? She found love?"

"Eponine doesn't love." Montparnasse's voice was blunt, with hardness in his eyes. Thernardier smirked at how easily Montparnasse was aggravated at the topic of Eponine's affection. He may have his whores, from their young age to old, all ready for bedding at night. Nevertheless, there was only one dame, his partner in criminal affairs that had possession of his affections. Despite, all he could deny. Some men with their passion become heroes, Montparnasse becomes a demon.

* * *

Eponine had no moment to bid Enjolras farewell before the debate, after sifting through different drafts together, they had concluded their work only minutes before he was soon to leave. Combeferre had interrupted their heartily farewell, thus depriving them of private time. Nevertheless, Cosette had invited her to watch the debate at her humble abode, she had been so nervous for the boys that she had not noticed the grandeur setting of Cosette's home. Although, the rich chocolate imported from Italy was delightful, yet surprising.

The entire metropolis was witness to this debate, only a month or so away from Election Day, Enjolras has to place a dagger through Beauvais' heart, and show to the people of France that this marble statue did not yield. But with ice and fire, could conquer its opponent. With only a few minutes to go, Eponine was pacing, the commentators could be heard giving their predictions, there was very little faith in Les Amis, but she would not listen to pompous commentators, which made sarcastic comments to simply fill awkward air. Cosette was relaxed on the settee beside her, sipping her raspberry tea, she had complete faith in Marius, but Eponine was weary.

The fanfare was heard, and the bright colours lit up the plasma screen in Cosette's entertainment room, there was a vast crowd cheering as the cameras soared over the heads of the many that had gathered. Eponine caught a glimpse of Enjolras reading through his speeches, she could hear him speaking in that hush tone of concentration in her mind. Her fist clenched at the sight of Beauvais relaxing with a drink, not even acknowledging the citizens that had come to witness this event, unlike Courfeyrac, who had walked down to the crowd to greet them. Eponine's right pocket buzzed, she lifted it to see a text message from Enjolras and Grantaire.

_Thank you. – Enjolras._

_Here we gooo! – Grantaire._

The camera had settled on Enjolras smiling at his friends, as they huddled together, she could sense Courfeyrac as well as, Joly's enthusiasm, with Jehan thoughtful words of wisdom, Combeferre's calm exterior, Marius' warmth, Bahorel's stimulation, Bossuet's humour, and most of all, she could sense Enjolras' fear. No, she could feel his fear.


	15. Ice and Fire

_**review responses.**_

_**ronnynolastname - thank you so much! I really love writing this fic and seeing how well it's doing gives me joy. thank you for the kind words! x**_

* * *

The crowd silenced, the cameras fixated on the two groups. Eponine fidgeted with her fingers as the headspeaker shuffled his cards at the podium. Cosette and her watched anxiously as he tapped the microphone before him, and instantaneously turned towards the two leading politicians.

"Monsieur Enjolras and Monsieur Beauvais, Merci for coming to this debate. Do you have any personal requests before we begin?" The group behind Enjolras shuffled each watching Enjolras with a different expression, Grantaire with confidence, Combeferre with caution.

"Oui. I request for my colleagues to participate with me, headspeaker." There was a murmuring in the crowd at the abnormality of Enjolras' request, it was very rare for a leading politician to not bask in the limelight, and it was also rare that requests of this nature were accepted.

"That cannot be done, boy." Beauvais sneered. Eponine had a desire to punch the television screen at the sound of his drawling. "How do you expect the crowd to cope? One speaker must be used as a representative, otherwise we risk confusion."

"Nice to know you have so much faith in the French citizens, Beauvais." Enjolras' snarky comment was received with a mocking laughter at Beauvais' expense. Eponine smirked. "However, I do not think there will be confusion, after all they are not imbeciles, my party is of collective action it's what we stand for. It would do me great honour to have them with me in the debate."

There was a prolonged silence as the headspeaker considered the request, with Enjolras' charming expression and Beauvais' drunken nature; it only seemed fair to allow Enjolras this honour. "I will allow it, but please refrain from interrupting each other in the debate, it will skewer the agenda." Enjolras nodded his smile enough to give the headspeaker confidence. That could not be assured for his friends. Before the debate began, they cornered him.

"Enjolras, what are you thinking?" Feuilly exclaimed. "We haven't prepared speeches for ourselves; you were supposed to do this." He jabbed Enjolras in the middle of his red jacket.

"What are speeches, Feuilly? Use your wit, and your passion that I know you all encompass." He addressed all his friends, their eager and frightful eyes, he accurately fathomed their anxiety. They had relentlessly toiled day and night for this, and to have faith in one man was easier than to challenge you, but it was not himself that Enjolras depended on. It was very special indeed as if it were the companionship of his brothers; he refused to stand their addressing their fellow brothers as well as sisters without having the men who had kept him fighting there with him.

"Let's do it, bitches!" Bahorel yelped with enthusiasm. Previously, Enjolras unquestionably would have frowned at his "eloquent" vocabulary, but he was in good spirits this noon and welcomed his frenzied personality.

"Yes, uh, let's…"do it." Jehan agreed, this thoughtful eyes resting on Enjolras, a slight nod to give indication that his faith was beside him, his passion and his wit at the ready.

"Monsieur Enjolras, are we ready?" The headspeaker called from his mahogany glazed podium. "Oh yes." Enjolras addressed the headspeaker, but his eyes were trained upon Beauvais, never blinking, never faltering, and startling the sparks of ice and fire.

"We are very ready."

"We shall begin with simple questions to warm the atmosphere." It was a tirade of questions.

"Why did you enter politics?"

"I entered because it was subject I very much enjoyed throughout my childhood, and wanted to continue forth into my adulthood as well. I am very proud of France, and hope to maintain it at the conditions that I have created for France." Beauvais grinned, his white shiny teeth twinkling in the sunlight, blinding the camera lenses. Enjolras was silent; his eyes were scanning through the cue cards in his hands, but his mind was drenched in the harmony of Eponine's voice.

_Show them you're not a man on paper, which you and the others are wort__h following._

"I originally entered Law." He dropped the cards on his seat, his body straight, shoulders back, head high. His friends exchanged glances at his unusual behaviour. Wit and passion. "As did my friends, but, whilst I was studying Law, I began to notice patterns in my classes. Classmates that I knew would no longer attend lectures and seminars, teachers I knew would no longer be there for guidance. I was naïve, being the product of a rich and wealthy family, I never realised that they were leaving because they had no resources to continue to do what they loved. Students would leave to work at the closest bar to their home, teachers would begin to sell their books instead of enriching them to their students, I realised I wanted to change the law to help these people, not embrace it."

"I entered politics for the same reason." Combeferre interrupted. With a nod, he stood forward, addressing the mass crowd. They had seen this man before, the man with the glasses, breathing and living intelligence. "We all entered politics because we wanted to change the conditions of society, as much as Law is credible at making lives better within society, it is politics that gives us the key."

There was a silence, before the crowd erupted into cheers and clapping, Beauvais expression deepened into a sulk, Combeferre clasped Enjolras' right shoulder in support. They had survived the inaugural blow. Eponine's legs had finally halted shaking.

"How do you satisfy your goals and hopes for Paris?"

Beauvais stood. He cracked his neck, and his back, the crunching audible in the microphone; Courfeyrac chuckled at the sight of the faces in the crowd grimacing at the noise. "How so very rude, Beauvais." He received a glare from his opponent and a chuckling ripple throughout the waves of the crowd.

"I have satisfied Paris as we speak. Being the wealthiest and largest region in France, we have as we speak a total GDP of 552 billion euros, marking us as the 15th wealthiest region in the world, there is a fantastic prospectus of employment and education, I feel that is satisfying my hopes for Paris. Sorry to shatter your illusions, boys." His smirk set Marius alight. Marius rose without command, and stood at their podium. His jaw clenched, and his fists curled.

"No illusion is shattered, Beauvais. I shall tell you why, Paris is 15th wealthiest, it is because there are hoarders of money. Currently, 20% of wages are cut from manufacturers and invested into the stock market, and royalty cuts are made. There is an illusion, Beauvais, but it is yours. "

"Oh, and where is your evidence?" Beauvais chuckled; this freckled schoolboy was amusing him greatly. Except this freckled boy, knew men like Beauvais, their bravado made them vulnerable. His innocent eyes were not being underrated, collected the stacks of sources in his right fist, he marched over to Beauvais' standing and threw the sources upon his podium.

"_There_ is your evidence." With enormous thunder came the applauses, Enjolras smirked at the stricken expression on Beauvais' features, proud of his friend. It seemed love had not made him weak.

"Can you tell us how your hopes have been satisfied, Les Amis de l'ABC?"

Feuilly pushed himself forward, taking his dark unfathomed place at the podium; he did not glance back towards his company, but faced the crowd with the utmost strength and confidence. There was the man who had lived throughout his life in solitude, there was the man who had taught himself the basics of life, there was the man who could explain e=mc2, and shock you to know that he had not attended school due to his poor circumstances. There was Feuilly, the orphan grown a hero.

"Unfortunately, our hopes have not been satisfied." His voice was directed in addressing the headspeaker, but Feuilly's eyes did not leave the attentive looks of the masses. "In the school education currently, children are leaving school at the age of 11, despite it being illegal; they are doing this to finance their parents. Currently, women of the ages of fourteen are entering prostitution because their home life is not safe. Our hopes are not being satisfied because there are people such as Beauvais-"

"There is no evidence of this, headspeaker." Beauvais rose, his voice booming, no longer the languid man with his feet rested on the table.

"I'll give you evidence." Feuilly snapped in retort. From the parchment before him, he informed the crowd with the statistics. "67% children leaving at the age of eleven or younger and no record is being held that notifies the councils or the local elects, 78% prostitutes are girls underage, and that is just in the shelters where they have taken protection, even then, who knows how many are still out there? Not to mention, there are only five shelters in the whole of Paris. And why has this not been notified? Because there is no document within the cabinets of Beauvais, which give any notification of this." Producing from underneath his sources were a pile of documents, all marked "Disregarded" in red, dark pen. "These are the documents, which are all disregarded and not investigated within the cabinet. So, why have our hopes been satisfied? No, headspeaker. And why? Because Beauvais and his party cannot be bothered to look at problems surrounding Paris and fix it."

There was no cheer in response to this, but death glares in Beauvais' direction, there were several civilians that nodded towards Feuilly in respect, but the majority were watching Beauvais intensely, cracking through the fractures of that man, they had trusted him, but the illusion he had created had misted their vision. To relieve the tension, the headspeaker interrupted with developed questioning.

"Do you feel that you are able to address Paris as a whole?"

"I am able to, oui." Beauvais stood, pushing Feuilly out of the way, wearing an indestructible smirk. "As a man who has governed Paris for a long period of time, I have touched the souls of many of the people, however these boys have not. They are so focused on the working class, that they pay attention to no industrialists, or middle class. They have narrowed their vision, how are we? The people who have worked hard for our position of authority able to trust them?"

Enjolras suspiciously watched with dread as realization dawned on the people in the crowds, he had to credit Beauvais on his emotional manipulation, but two could fight with horns.

"Beauvais, the industrialists have had their voices heard, as have the middle class, it is time for another class to be in the spotlight."

"But, is it not true, dear Enjolras." He laid a sweaty hand upon Enjolras' shoulder. "That you are not cooperating? After all, many industrialists have approached you, wishing to help the working class, but you have been too stubborn to agree, it seems to me that you do not have the correct will to do what is right to govern."

Enjolras froze. How had he known? There was no opportunity for Beauvais to have known about Enjolras' agenda, unless they had information filtered from within the headquarters. Beauvais watched as the posture of Enjolras' body straightened, with one smack, his hand was unclasped from Enjolras' shoulder; Enjolras commenced to walk towards him cornering him, his words hissing and his eyes frosting.

"For years the industrialists have had influence on our policies, you will not be able to name one time that the industrialists did not determine the fates of the French people. We are not children, Beauvais, we are aware of the world that surrounds Paris more than you, with your champagne and your caviar and your women. Look outside, Beauvais! Because of industrialists, the choices of the working class has been limited, we will coöperate with them when their intentions are true, and not to encourage investment within their businesses. It is time that Paris was governed for its people, not for its benefactors."

There was immediate cheer, no silence; there was roaring applause and shouting of "Viva la France! Viva La France". They all watched with astonishment as the fellow-beings began to clap together, looking at them with great respect and hope. He felt his friends encircle arms around each other as the cameras began to flash, but Enjolras could not flee his eyes from the faces. The smiles, the tears, the laughs, all of it. There was a moment that Enjolras truly imagined that they were finished, but no, they had a fighting spirit that no-one could shatter.

* * *

When they returned, the boys were in marvellous spirits, especially Enjolras. He had, on the departure home, offered to buy the boys' lunch, Grantaire managed to get one drink out of the visit. Upon arriving at Cosette's home, Marius was welcomed with an enveloped embrace from an ecstatic Cosette, Eponine had not emerged into the butterfly garden, she was unsure on how to welcome them. She was not the hugging kind, perhaps a handshake? _How awkward are you, Ponine, ugh._ Alas, it was Courfeyrac that had made it easier for her; he had searched through the house to find her in library reading an old volume of Valjean's studies. She was lifted into the air by his strong arms before she had the opportunity to stand.

"Did you see us, Eponine? We were amazing!" Eponine did not reply to his excited questioning, her voice full of laughter as the dizziness of the elevation had made her giddy. An uncomfortable cough behind them stopped them in their celebration; Enjolras was stood in the threshold, glancing around the grandeur library, not meeting any of the other two's eyes. "Relax, Enjolras. I'm just hugging her." Courfeyrac winked cheekily, with a pat to Enjolras' shoulder, he left the two. He chuckled on his departure at the memory of Enjolras' marble expression.

"Why do you need to relax?" Eponine asked quite innocently, and with confusion. There had been a learned over tendency of the others making comments to Enjolras regarding him and her, and frankly it was beginning to become a grain of annoyance to her. Enjolras waved his hand dismissively, wishing to not explore the depths of Courfeyrac's mind, it was the alcohol, and he was sure.

"That does not matter at the moment. Did you see us?"

"Yes." Eponine's abrupt response puzzled him.

"What did you think?" It annoyed him that he was the figure in this exchange making the attempt for conversation, although typically he undoubtedly should become adaptable to these circumstances, Eponine did challenge, naturally even so.

"You did well, the balance between emotion and evidence was there…"

"But?" There was a smirk upon him, making Eponine smile contagiously. She was becoming predictable to him, which was clear as day.

"What makes you think there's a but?" Her question was met with a quirked eyebrow. She sighed in mock resignation. "Fine. Beauvais' right." She fastened her speech as Enjolras' smile deepened into a frown and the light in his eyes dulled. "You've narrowed your target audience, you need the industrialists, and you need the businessmen."

"Out of all people, I would expect you understand why I can't trust them!" The accusatory exclamation in his tone insulted her to the core, it was belittling that he blindly believed her to hate industrialists and to agree with all his belief, just because she had lived in poverty.

"I'm not telling you to trust them!" She advanced towards him, unknowingly backing him against the wall in an angry heat. "I'm telling you to put your childish grudges aside and think realistically for your party. You physically can't win without their support, stop being so damn stubborn and open up to opportunities! Just because I was poor does not mean I'm blind to how the world worlds!"

"Don't you dare talk to me about being stubborn?" Enjolras boomed. Retaliating, he moved forward, in step with her, his hands resting upon her elbows subconsciously. "I know how the world works, Eponine, that doesn't mean I have to conform to it-"

"Um, excuse me?" The two bickering adults turned to behold a flustered Marius standing in the threshold, his eyes widened at the sight of Enjolras hold on Eponine and Eponine's hands resting on his chest. Feeling no solution to diffuse the tension, he bit his lip sheepishly, and made an excuse to flee. "I'll come back for my book!" He fled, never returning for the old volume. The two left did not speak for a while, their contact no longer there. Eponine sighed in exhaustion.

"I'm not telling you to conform-"

"Save it." Enjolras frostily demanded. He departed with no glance behind him. Eponine stood stunned to her position in disgust; she had been contemplating his change in character also.

"Such…a…child!" She yelled to no-one in particular.

* * *

_**thank you for faves, reviews, follows, all of it really means a lot! x**_


	16. Evoke Emotions

The ride home was deathly silent with a scowling Eponine as well as Enjolras on either side of an awkward Courfeyrac. He had attempted conversation multiple times, only to be hushed by Enjolras, and Enjolras to be scolded by Eponine on the issue of his rudeness. If it had not been for Combeferre's tight tone, then there would have been a full-blown explosion. Upon returning home, Eponine had dismissed Enjolras' assistant out of the vehicle and stormed upstairs, the annoyance was evidenced in Enjolras' deepening of his frown. Combeferre ordered the driver to flee at the speed of a hurricane. The fast paced running of Enjolras' feet could be heard behind Eponine, before she could comprehend the situation, Enjolras had grabbed her by the waist and spun her around, her fingered palm lifted to push away his confident form.

"Don't!" With a swift movement, his hand wrapped around her forearm, preventing the blow of her palm. "Stop acting like a child!"

"Me?" Eponine barked in response, here as the daughter of a wolf raised. "I'm not the one who stormed away without a real explanation.-"

"Then, what do you call that two foot rendition you just performed?"

"Fast walking!"

"Fast walking, my as-"

"What the hell is going on?" Feuilly's bellowing voice could be heard, his eyes were ablaze with frustration, behind him mightily stood a baffled Bossuet and an exhausted Bahorel, which was a rare sight, Bahorel had the energy of a five year old intoxicated with sugary goodness. "Why are you acting like children?"

"Ask your friend, he's the one who argued that my personality should be defined by my poverty!"

"I didn't say that!"

"You implied-" There was a pulling away of the two bodies by two strong arms, Enjolras was pushed to the side by Combeferre who had returned after his conscience had nagged him to his last nerve, and Eponine had been pulled aside by a surprisingly gentle, Bahorel.

"Okay, I've had enough." Combeferre said sternly, his eyes never leaving the two fuming figures. "What did you two argue about?"

"Enjolras is a stub-"

"Eponine is a childish-"

"I'm not the one who-"

"That's exactly what you did-"

"One at a time!" The two hushed as Combeferre's crystal tone cut though their barrier. He signalled, as the chivalrous man he was, for Eponine to begin, his eyes not meeting with Enjolras' widened eyes. Eponine's intellectual battle had eagerly began formulated with short, snappy sentences, but then diverted to a bizarre point about how Enjolras' frowned too much, and then returned to the message of her meaning, that Enjolras had insulted her integrity, and her state of birth. That, despite him believing that everyone is free, his Neanderthal mind still believed that anyone poor should undoubtedly conform to their beliefs.

"It may come to a surprise to you, Enjolras," she finally turned to Enjolras, the rest of the boys too mesmerized by her fiery attitude to stir her away. "But, not every poor person is a saint, if Beauvais offered them a better policy, they would leave you immediately, in fact, I still believe they will leave you. So, stop thinking of them as angels from the gates of heaven, they are nothing more than the underdogs of hell."

"Is that what you honestly think? Have you no faith in the people? Wow, Eponine, I pity you."

"Don't you dare pity me? I don't have faith in the people, but if I did, I would count all of them, because "people" is plural, so that includes industrialists, you can't just forget about them, because it doesn't suit your state of mind!" To love is so starling, it leaves, there was a silence as they all absorbed her argument with reflection, Feuilly was nodding with understanding, and he had been attempting to convince Enjolras that they truly required the assistance of the industrialists, despite Enjolras' viewpoint, not all of them were wickedly pernicious. With no parents, no home, Feuilly had needed a gallantly aiding hand, and that had been a dear business that had employed people of the slums and gave Feuilly the resources he needed to begin his own company. At the commencing of Beauvais' power, his friend had become bankrupt, and unquestionably could not support the slums no longer, associates of Feuilly had contacted Enjolras hoping to create a network with the slums so there could be a rise in employment, however the stubborn defence in Enjolras' muse had prevented him from agreeing, despite the great that it could have created.

"She's right, Enjolras. We may have won today, but who knows what stunt Beauvais will pull? We need everyone's help." The others watched Enjolras' expression for his reaction; his eyes never left Eponine's. With her head raised high, her lips tightened into a rebellious pout, she mirrored his challenging gaze. He nodded slowly. There was a dawning of calm, as sighs of relief were heard, expect for Eponine. She had not expected his co-operation; she watched in confusion as his lips quirked into a small smile, with the dignity mustered, he swaggered away.

* * *

The urge to throw the ink quill at Courfeyrac's head and to cease the incessant perusal glances was becoming overwhelming for Enjolras, yes, he was also surprised at how willing he was for the decision to be made, but what had been done was finished, could Courfeyrac no let that be? Apparently not, that was demonstrated by Courfeyrac's widening of the eyes, and nervous twitching of the mouth.

"What, Courfeyrac?" He said in annoyance Courfeyrac sprang up from his starting position, idly whistling in a faux dramatic stance, it was useless of course, he had already been caught by his friend. "Courfeyrac, I've seen you staring, what's the problem?" He already knew the answer.

"You answered so...willingly…"

"I do have a mind, Courfeyrac. A mind that makes different decisions." His voice was masked with heavy sarcasm. Courfeyrac's eyes narrowed, not appreciating his mocking, whilst he was still attempting to process what had inevitably happened. His eyes brightened, his pursed lips transformed into a gentle smile. The effect of Eponine.

"Why are you smirking?"

"No reason…" His voice trailed, and his gleam of madness widened, showing no pretence, his head turned towards the sound of the bedroom door opening, upon leaving the room was an agitated Eponine and a nagging Grantaire.

"Eponine, just consider the job!"

"No."

"You'll get good pa-"

"No."

"Is this because you're scared Montparnasse will find you? Because I can promise we'll-"

"Excuse me?" Enjolras grimaced as he felt the deadly silence dawn; his migraine was brewing, as well as his eyes were stinging. Grantaire's lip formed a tight line as he realised the disastrous implication of his sentence. Eponine looked shocked, that her friend that knew her so well would insinuate that she was afraid of a man who she had fought on her lonesome. When, at the age of sixteen, she had faced six men on her own, with no weapons at hand.

"I didn't mean it like that." Grantaire apologized hastily.

"I certainly hope not." Eponine's voice was deathly quiet. With a huff, Enjolras mightily stood, his mind to disarray to concentrate on party documents, this ebbing day was lengthening into the never-ending dark, with the stars twinkling for the infinity.

"What's the issue?" Enjolras stood at the side, glancing in, a soothing cup of tea in his right hand, his left massaging the throbbing pain of his temple.

"I'm trying to convince Eponine to be my partner in publicity organisation for the party." Grantaire tiredly explaining, he was wary of how the situation would turn. Would Enjolras encourage Grantaire's decision, or blatantly refuse Eponine's participation in their party?

"That's fine by me." The group fell silent; Eponine was no longer scowling at Grantaire, but openly regarding Enjolras with a shocked expression.

"What?" Her voice was an utter whisper.

"That. Is...Fine. By…me." He repeated in a drawl voice. This migraine was beginning to harden his good nature. "You have contacts that can help us, and you aren't afraid to give advice, trust me, I've noticed! You will fit right in." The rest of the group made agreeable noises, and Grantaire selflessly gave his friend a charming, grateful grin. They all waited for Eponine's response, not sure how to judge her silence. Her eyes were still puzzled as she mulled over his offer, and her soft brown eyes never left his stark blue.

"One day." She warned. Grantaire's shoulders sagged in relief. She received a curt nod from Enjolras. "One day, and if you don't impress me, then I won't work for you. I get a new apartment by the time I have to leave, and you don't harass me about it."

"Oh don't worry." Courfeyrac winked. "Enjolras always impresses."


	17. Birds on The Windowsill

It was six am when she striked. Eponine deeply felt the glaring light shine upon her face, and the painstaking ache in her muscles as she dragged her body off the bed, to which Eponine's annoyance, Enjolras had carried in the midst of the night once again, she felt the cold aqueous solution splash on her sunken cheeks, awakening her with a jolt of shock. Eponine finally opened her eyes to see an impatient Cosette rapidly moving around the bathroom, mustering all beauty products she unquestionably could find, to no avail, she grimaced at how little Enjolras took care of his body. There was not one face cream in sight; luckily, she had bought her emergency bag of supplies, of face cream, make up, tweezers, razors, toners, and the works. Her father had not been surprised to see her rummaging through the cupboards at three in the morning; in what world would she allow her friend to attend her first day of work without beautifying into the shining star she was? At presently, Eponine was not a shining star, but a grumpy thundercloud.

"Cosette. It is six in the morning!"

"Thank you for your observation, Eponine, dearest. Now, let us work." Cosette left the room in hurry and a frazzled Eponine also. _Us? Who the hell is "us"?_ Her eyebrows furrowed, partly due to confusion, but also to the burning brightness of the light bulb.

"Jehan!" She heard Cosette call. _I had to ask_. Jehan's melodious voice could be calling from the other side of the apartment; she heard a rattling of equipment, and the bathroom door swing wide open with a bang. There was a dishevelled Enjolras with bloodshot eyes, his lips red with tiredness, and his canvas unshaven, glaring at her. She held her hands in surrender; just as puzzled as he was in this rosy dawn interruption, he groaned and stormed out into the dining room.

"What the hell are you all playing at?" She heard him yell with ferocity. "It is six in the morning, Jehan, why are you holding curlers?! Cosette, what you doing here? Don't you and Marius have relationship things to do?"

"Enjolras, you are so adorable when tired."

"Oh my god, you bought Courfeyrac?!" The increased volume in Enjolras' shouting gave Eponine the indication that Enjolras' bloodshot eyes were now ablaze with fury; his red lips in a tight line, the discordant melody of Courfeyrac's laugh confirmed her suspicions.

"Enjolras, dear, we don't have time for you. Courfeyrac, take him, and I don't know…rile him up. Jehan, you do the hair, I do face." Eponine's eyes widened as realization dawned, their plan of action had clicked in her mind, with as much energy she could muster, she attempted to escape into the bedroom, but Cosette's arms locked around her waist, pulling her back.

"Cosette! Let me go!"

"No-Ep-Stop struggling-Ow! That hurts! You keep struggling and I will not be nice! No-"With great struggle, Cosette cornered Eponine the bedroom, and with a glaring fire in her eyes, Eponine thought it best to not retaliate. So, she shut her eyes, and awaited the torture.

Jehan's touch was gentle, his hands caressed the tips of her temple as a head massage to calm her nerves for the first day, and his hands would gently tug on the streaks of her hair that would be curled, and the heating warmth from the curling tongs rushed through her body, giving a calming sensation her muscles. It was Cosette's product of her face that worried her, she had her eyes closed, and the sudden feeling of a bristles touching her nose sparked her, or the feeling of a heavy brush on her tender eyelid creeped her, she could hear the rapid movement of Cosette around the bathroom, with the occasion muffled yelling of Enjolras and the whining of Courfeyrac, she had no intention of investigating the issue. It had been perhaps a half hour before the birds sat on the vine windowsills and began to sing, Eponine could not help, but smile as Cosette began to sing also, joined with the harmonious humming of Jehan. She had grown accustomed to Enjolras' apartment, it was always a delight to be welcomed into the morning by the sunlight upon her soft skin, and the birds at her window singing her awake.

She felt soft pinches to her cheeks, which she attempted to recoil from, but an impatient cough from her friend prevented her from moving, with a moment's silence and little movement, Eponine gently opened one eyes, followed by the other. Cosette smiled lovingly and placed a mirror before her, awaiting her reaction with anticipation. Eponine did not eloquently articulate, her reflection smiled back at her. That woman was not her, surely. Her hair was down by her should be dressed in beautiful, soft curls, decorated with a small flower, her eyes were bright, illuminated with metallic blue shadow, and her lips decorated with a beautiful red shade. She brushed her fingers against the mirror in still shock, a satisfied Cosette smirking behind her. Holding her hand, Cosette led her through the apartment, throwing a short black and green gown, she ordered Eponine to dress immediately, Eponine was too stunned to oppose. The dress touched to her knees, hugged her waist comfortably, and accentuated her curves flatteringly, she distinctly had noticed how well her body had developed under the care of Enjolras, she had been ravenously eating properly, but little did she know, how undernourished she had been living in her old home in the slums. There was a pang of sadness though; the thought of her old life haunted her, not the mortal life where she was a petty criminal, but the vitality she would wear long dresses and run through wheat fields with Montparnasse in the summer. She still dreamt of those days.

* * *

There was an excited squeal behind her, she found Cosette giggling manically, and clapping. Courfeyrac's head popped in the side of the doorway, there was an appreciative look from his expression and a joking wink, she narrowed her eyes playfully, and Courfeyrac heard an angry yell from Enjolras and left immediately. Jehan entered shortly after to help her pack for her first day, his hands touched her gentle curls from time to time to perfect his styling, she had to slap his hand away playfully to prevent him from continuing so.

"I am really proud of you, Eponine; I hope you don't mind me saying so." Jehan admitted softly, whilst packing several notebooks in her bag that Cosette had brought, he had mentioned that being a publicity organisation planner entitled innumerable note-taking, which was not fearful to Eponine, she had done many note-taking in inventory for the gloomy tavern, as her manager never focused on actual management.

"Oh, thank you, Jehan. That's so kind." She was touched, truly. "May I ask why?"

"Um," He blushed gently; Eponine admired the soft smile that graced his expressions. "How well you coped after such an ordeal, and took advantage of better opportunities opened to you. You never know, you may find the perfect job working with us." Her eyes brightened at his genuine kindness.

"Well, if it hadn't been you to help me, I wouldn't be here to take this opportunity, but…" She hated to crumble his hope in this way. "I may not take this job, I may hate it. Just, be ready for if I leave in a week." Jehan nodded, but he was smiling, as though he did not truly believe in that option as greatly as she did. Jehan indicated to the door as they began to leave the room, but a nagging thought occurred to her, as she pressed an arm against his chest to prevent him rapidly moving. "Please don't think of me as a damsel of distress, I've been through worse, and survived heavier ordeals."

"Eponine." His smile dropped to a frown, a serious spark in his eyes. "Not one of us sees you that way."

* * *

Enjolras was sitting at the dining table, surrounded by many newspapers, Courfeyrac beside them, discussing several points on their next plan of action, Grantaire had arrived to wish her luck, there was a flirtatious whistle behind her, she turned to see him grinning friendly, she twirled just for him, he hugged her, his smile indicating his excitement for her benefit. Courfeyrac smirked at Enjolras' diverted attention to the sight of Grantaire and Eponine hugging. He coughed awkwardly, Enjolras' head snapped straight back down, it took a lot of energy to restrain from cheekily jestering about Enjolras' discomfort.

"Cosette, I'm impressed." Grantaire commented, Cosette came through wearing a proud smile, nodding with her agreement. Grantaire suspiciously watched Enjolras at the table; he was unusually hunched over the table, falling in perusal glances deeply at the article before him. His eyes met with Courfeyrac's and a single wink was enough to understand the situation. He slowly, gracefully ambled towards Enjolras, and clasped his shoulder; his hand gripped a tense shoulder.

"What do you think, Enjolras?"

"What?" was Enjolras' frosty reply, his pen scribbling manically, almost as though he was attempting strongly to create distractions? He knew better, Grantaire could not be discouraged.

"Doesn't Eponine look beautifully different?"

"She's wearing make-up, which is all." He stood suddenly, brushing away Grantaire's hand on his shoulder. He glanced at Eponine, there was no different light in his eyes towards her, and it was the same respectful expression he would give her. Undoubtedly should she have been insulted? Because, she was relieved that there was one person in the room who was not looking her like a shining star in the night illuminating the broad sky, something she most certainly did not hold in regard to.

"Ready?" She nodded; he walked towards the door and waited for her to join him at the side. Cosette wished her good fortunes before they left for work, the other three gladly walked behind the pair, it did not miss Jehan's eyes how Enjolras' hand would brushed against Eponine's unconsciously. They all stepped into the one taxi and rode into the buzzing city.

* * *

The drive into the melancholy metropolis was surreal, as Eponine looked up at the silver buildings ahead of her, broad sky high decorated with glass panelling glistening the summer sunlight into the paths of busy thoroughfares. Her eyes roamed over the fashion of the civilians, the diverse and luminous, preppy colours that were worn. The air zealously became tight, her mouth dried and her lungs commenced restricting, she threw herself forward yelling for the taxi to halt, she fled the car immediately, her legs lithely dashing faster and faster, her calves burning, her body streamlining through the air, fellow-beings did not selflessly give her a second glance as she sped through them, clearly distressed, but in the festering sore on the globe, your business was your business. She finally, quickly ceased, and pressed her body against a wall, sinking to the ground, she pressed her knees against her chest, tears streaming down her face but she was not weeping. She was suffocating. She heard a person run up to her, breathing heavily and wheezing, she did not glance up, so Grantaire placed himself beside her, without a word, he took her hand in his and squeezed comfortably.

"I can't do it, what am I thinking?" Eponine began rambling. "I'm a damned slum girl, I lived in an apartment that had no hot water, how do you people expect me to survive in a city like this? People will judge me, I'll try and do a good job, but they'll see me as the dirty urchin that I have the blood of. I can't do this." Her tears flowed again, and her chest began to restrict, Grantaire pressed her body into his, enveloping his arms around hers, his arms were strong; his soothing noises were like a lullaby.

"You'll survive in this city, because Paris needs people like you, we don't want a girl who wears high heels and designer suits, we want a woman who has felt the mud seep to her knees and know that no other human being should feel that way. This city is corrupt and wrong, you shouldn't survive here, and you should change it."

"I can't change the city!" She began to yell, rousing attention from passer-bys, but their attention meant very little to her, that Grantaire could see. He admired that greatly. "I am one person-"

"No, you're part of group now, or you will be. I'll be working with you all day, you won't be alone in this, yes I get it, going into a professional job will be daunting, but you are capable of doing well. And, if anyone pesters you, Enjolras won't hesitate to have a word."

"What makes you think Enjolras will care so much?" She scoffed; the man had not even come to see the state of her well-being.

"You really don't give him enough credit, Eponine." Eponine's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the slight frustrated hint in his tone. "Now, let's go show them what slum girls are made of." He rose himself up, extending a hand towards her, usually, she would make a comment of how she did not require the assistance of a man, but this was no man, this was a friend, so she smiled softly, grasping his hand, she walked with him back to the car, not letting go once.

* * *

Enjolras was tense during the moment that Eponine and Grantaire had been missing, that was noticeable to Courfeyrac. How could he have been so stupid? It was idiotic to take Eponine through the city, to absorb the change in her life would require greater time, but Enjolras, being Enjolras, did not consider, as usual, people who were dear to him. I'm a fool, he scorned himself. He heard a tuneful laughter behind him, he recognized it to be Eponine's, turning slowly; he was relieved to see her happy, but his eyes shifted to her view of her hand interlocked with Grantaire. Something unusual happened, his palms became sweaty and there was a tightening in his throat, a sensation he was not familiar with. He did notice Courfeyrac smirking at his expression, his best friend was an expert of deducing Enjolras' inner emotions.

"Eponine, would you like to walk?" Enjolras' voice was surprisingly gentle, much to her confusion. "The car is packed with many people, and the office is not that far, maybe fresh air will help?" Jehan's eyebrows rose at his sincerity, it was not that his friend was cold, it was more that he was always keen to arrive to the office to commence work, to waste more time tending to someone was most preposterous.

"No." She smiled regardless of her rejection. "I can't freak out everytime we drive into the city, this will be the last time, I promise."

"I don't care if it isn't, your journey to work should be comfortable." There was a reticent song as Eponine was unsure of how to reply to his generosity, he was incredibly charming this rosy dawn, was it her attire? Was he deeply feeling more inclined toward her, because of her appearance? There are no eternal facts, as there are no absolute truths. Absolutely not, but the wiring of Enjolras' mind was hard to comprehend, the driver honked rudely to indicate his impatience. The journey to the office was spent in silence as every individual attempted to accurately fathom the complication of what distinctly had just occurred.

* * *

If the city had silenced her, the headquarters itself has stunned her. There were marble floors, mahogany tables, and fresh fruit bowls, Eponine was used to seeing stale food. The atmosphere was energetic, Eponine could not help, but notice how starry eyed the staff members would become when speaking to Enjolras, they seemed friendly, however, Eponine was weary. Acting was an easy art for politicians after all. Combeferre had taken her on a tour, which had proved useless as her mind could not understanding any layout beyond the first floor, however had explained that she would spend most of her time with Grantaire in his office or outdoors visiting different agents. She was curious to explore the metropolis. Unfortunately, the men could not stay with her as they had many tasks to attend to, it was refreshing to behold them all in their element, even Courfeyrac, who she saw joke on a daily basis was heard yelling to a "baboon", his every own words, in his office.

Musichetta, a lovely woman had offered to assist Eponine on her first day, she was a partner of Joly, and Eponine could see the appeal of her immediately. She radiated warmth, but when challenged, there was frostiness in her voice that would demand respect, except for Joly, they did not display public acts of affection, but the fleeting glances of love made Eponine smile, she missed those butterfly feelings. Her first task had been to find appropriate venues for the next rally; it was a relief that she had not been pushed into the backroom, to do "administration" which simply, was always stuffing envelopes. Musichetta had asked her many questions, but nothing that was inappropriate, according to Joly, she was highly adept at reading into people without speaking, which both excited Eponine and frightened her also. She had been shaky at the beginning of contacting different venues, but s she continued, she had grown accustomed to the routine, soon, she was negotiating and bargaining, creating quite the impressive show for Musichetta, after the sixth successful business transaction, she felt it was time for her to ask the questions.

"So, what does this job entail?"

"Hmm, good question. Well, you and Grantaire are head of publicity, you arrange rallies, press interviews etc. And, from time to time, you help with speeches and whatnot." Eponine laughed at the phrase "time to time".

"I help Enjolras with speeches anyway!"

"I know." Musichetta grinned playfully. "He's commented on your skills many times." Eponine's smile froze, her mind going into panic. He had spoken about her? _Oh freaking fantastic, he's been mocking me. _The horror must have been obvious on Eponine's features as Musichetta's grin dropped immediately. "Oh god, no! Not bad things, I've read the speeches, they're winning speeches, and you've helped him on many occasions." Eponine nodded, but did not articulate another word, the compliments she had received today had been strange, and whilst, the flattery was appreciated, it was little overwhelming for what her self-respect could handle. There was a calling for Musichetta, she left with no other word, she had great confidence in Eponine's handling of the task, as she looked back, her mask illuminated in a soft smile, and the sight was impressive. Enjolras had made the great decision in hiring her, she had not doubt they would unquestionably benefit greatly from Eponine's help.

* * *

On her passing to her office, she heard snide comments and giggling from the small staff room, she imagined it nothing, until the name "Eponine" was uttered, coming from the opposite direction of her; Combeferre had also heard it. They did not enter instantaneously, but rather paused outside, eave-dropping into the gossiping nonsense.

"I heard she's an alcoholic."  
"We all know she's sleeping Monsieur Enjolras."  
"Not that I blame her!" Combeferre's eyes widened and he stepped in the movement to interrupt, however Musichetta pulled him back by the arm, she wished for a greater moment to shatter their bubble of shallow and vainness.

"Eleanor, that is so rude! You know he won't even bat an eyelash at you, although she probably has tricks up her sleeves, people from there do…" That was Musichetta's cue. She marched in, her eyes storming with anger, whilst Combeferre followed behind her, whilst he was quiet; he wore a scowl that was dark as thunder and night. The group of girls were startled; one even smashed her coffee cup at the sound of the door banging open.

"That is quite enough! How dare you make comments of that nature?" Musichetta's voice was quiet, but she was hissing with rage. "Your behaviour will not be tolerated, you will leave the premises immediately, and any trouble we see from any of you will be dealt with severely."

"You are quite lucky that Monsieur Enjolras or Monsieur Marius did not hear you, otherwise this would not have been dealt with quiet voices." Combeferre's voice was exhausted, as though he was talking to bratty children.

"What relation does she have to him?" The dame who had made the inappropriate comment about Enjolras, Eleanor spat out. Combeferre advanced forward, his hands on his hips, the frustration was clear in the tight lines of his jaws, his eyes widened in disgust.

"That is none of your concern! All of you will leave, at once." He turned his back, but paid no attention to the sounds of the protestations. When challenged, Combeferre could be cold as ice, his calculating mind made him patient, but not always forgiving. Not to prejudiced human beings such as them. The sound of Musichetta sighing in frustration could be heard beside him, but he did not bother looking, too angry seething to construct a sentence. How dare they? They had no business discussing Eponine's affairs, or Enjolras'. Although, he was not all surprised, to expect all to be zealously as encompassing and understanding towards others as an ideal that still had to be built upon, whilst Enjolras had undying faith in his people, Combeferre knew there was traitors amidst them, Such as the ladies he had fired, there were many people who did not care for the lowly, they just wanted to assist in a campaign that would bring them the most wealth. They did not love like Eponine, or Cosette. Combeferre cherished meeting people who had the same mind for saving the world, not diminishing them.

"I know this isn't important, but…did you notice how they assumed that Enjolras and Eponine were involved…?" Musichetta questioned hesitantly. He had.


End file.
